


The Palace That Rose From the Sands

by Anonymous_Ostrich



Series: The Palace Series [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Splash Free, Arabian AU, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 114,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Ostrich/pseuds/Anonymous_Ostrich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hafa has wandered the desert for years under the affliction of a terrible curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a mirage. Hafa is rescued and brought to the city, and then he dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  [](http://i60.tinypic.com/1yx3zk.png)   
> 

It was there, but he couldn't believe it.

Sparkling and blue and shining in the unforgiving heat of the sun, the oasis stretched over the harsh desert like a blanket, and it was the most perfect water Hafa had ever seen. Strangely, the oasis was perched just on the outskirts of an enormous city, towers and buildings rising impressively over the sands just beyond the water. He would have fallen to his knees at the sight if it hadn't taken so much energy to do so.

There were figures in the water, swimming and splashing and looking as joyous as he felt; all of them human, it looked like, but that mattered little to Hafa. There was water. Finally, after all these years, had the curse been broken?

A familiar figure in the water looked his way. He knew this man. It had been so long since he'd seen him, and more than anything he felt _relief_. The crimson-haired man extended a hand to him, an invitation to join them, to come into the dazzling water and finally find the peace he craved.

Hafa pushed forward, using the very last of his energy to make a dash for the oasis. _Water_. It had been so long. If he could just feel it against his skin, feel it spread out over his tongue, _lose_ himself in it, he would be content. Even if this mortal body failed him, even if this were his last day alive, he just wanted to feel the water.

The men splashing around noticed him approach simultaneously, and they appeared happy to see him. Hafa discarded his clothes hastily as he neared and with one last push, he dove eagerly into the oasis.

The desert winds blew and Hafa could feel sand dusting his body and getting into his clothes. Hafa's eyes were open, but just barely. He smiled softly into the sand, his body too weak to move.

Every time he was close to death, he would see the water mirage. The mirage had been different this time. He had never seen the city before, or the humans. No matter how many times he convinced himself not to let himself be fooled, in the end he always hoped that it was real and that his torture was at an end. But it never was.

He felt a soft nose prodding him from behind. His camel, who had seen this happen many times now, was making more of a fuss than usual. _Perhaps,_ Hafa thought hopefully, _this will be the very last time I close my eyes._

Just as he felt himself slipping away, a voice was tugging him back from the cold and solitude of death, speaking urgently to him, calling him by a name that was not his name. He opened his eyes blearily to catch a glimpse of a brunette figure hovering over him.

_"Haru… Haru!"_

.

.

.

"Haru!"

A hand on his shoulder finally brought him back to himself, and deep blue eyes swept in the direction of Makoto, who was looking at Haruka with a tilted head and a smile.

"Are you okay? Are you having second thoughts?" Makoto asked, and Haruka looked back at the building in front of them. His eyes were fixed on the Arabian-esque palace that made up the front of the club, outlining the name in neon lights. He said nothing, which of course could have meant anything.

"Haru-chan, we came all this way, we _have_ to go in! It sounds like so much fun!" Nagisa chimed, jumping on Haruka's back and putting weight on his other shoulder.

"I share Haruka-sempai's hesitance," came Rei's voice, bringing up the rear of the company and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Loud music emanated from inside the building, as well as the occasional cheering of a crowd. "What kind of club is this anyway, Nagisa-kun? How did you even find out about it?"

Nagisa turned to Rei with a bright smile, eyes shimmering with excitement. "Someone from school told me that as long as you look old enough, you can get in, and it's really fun! Just dancing and drinking and karaoke and more _dancing_! That's why we have to go!"

Rei flushed. "We're _not_ drinking, Nagisa, we're underage!" he exclaimed, and Nagisa waved his hand at him with a pout.

"Of course we're not drinking, Rei-chan, who do you take me for? Well, Haru-chan, are we going in? Please say yes!"

Haruka had only been half-listening to the banter, his eyes still fixed on the neon-sign that read 'Splash Club', framed by the flashing palace. Finally he spoke.

"We can go," he said. Nagisa's face lit up with a tremendous smile, and he enthusiastically fist-pumped the air in reply.

"Looking at it just makes me feel nostalgic somehow," Haruka finished distantly, and all eyes moved up to the neon sign, following Haruka's gaze.

Makoto laughed softly. "You know, you're right. It's strange, isn't it?"

"I suppose it's true. I wonder what attributes that sign has to make my mind misfire in such a way." Rei said thoughtfully, and Nagisa went to him and seized his arm, tugging on it.

"Don't make things sound so logical, Rei-chan! It's so boring!" he whined, and before Rei could utter an indignant reply, Nagisa looked back at the sign. "I agree, though! It gives me a funny feeling, like we've all been here before."

A silence fell over the company, brief but almost meaningful, until Nagisa broke the silence and started dragging Rei towards the entrance.

"Come on, come on! The night is young! We have dancing to do!" he laughed excitedly, ignoring the protests of his unwilling captive.

Haruka and Makoto watched Nagisa pull Rei through the doors of the club, the noise from inside intensifying ten-fold until the doors fell closed again. Turning to Haruka with a comforting smile, Makoto took a step forward, urging his friend to follow.

"Well, Haru? Are you coming?"

.

.

.

Blue eyes fluttered open, and a gasp escaped dry lips.

Hafa was staring at a ceiling. For a long while he didn't move, too confused and too tired to attempt. He was staring at a _ceiling_. He had seen nothing but sand and sky for so long, looking at something man-made was almost straining to his eyes.

As his senses slowly returned to him, Hafa could feel a wool blanket over his bare chest, and a pillow under his head. The floor under him was hard, but not uncomfortably so; more blankets had been placed under him to give him support.

He tried moving; it was proving to be difficult, but not impossible. He experimentally moved his arms first, and then his head. As he turned his head to the side, he saw that he appeared to be in the back of a store of some kind. On the opposite side of the room there was a narrow set of stairs that went up, indicating that he was below ground level. There were crates stacked around the small space, writing scrawled on each one, and pottery littered the floor and shelves.

Hafa turned his head again, and this time he sat bolt-upright, eyes wide and fixed on a stone cup filled with water. Hafa's mouth was dryer than it had ever been, and for a time, he didn't move. It couldn't be real, could it? Was this just another mirage? His arms trembled. It was the first water he had seen in so many years… There was simply no way it could be real.

Hafa reached for the cup, hands shaking like leaves, and he carefully clasped the cup in his hand. It felt real. The stone was cool against the palm of his hand, and he could feel it, _really_ feel it.

Needing no other incentive, Hafa brought the cup to his mouth. The water pressed against his lips invitingly, and Hafa had to stifle a sob. He drank gratefully, unable to stop himself from making soft whimpering sounds as the precious liquid flooded into his mouth and streamed down his throat.

He very nearly saved some of it, just to be able to perhaps twirl a finger in it or pour it over his dark hair, but before he could take those thoughts seriously he had consumed it all. The mortal need to alleviate suffering was stronger than his desire to feel the water at the moment.

"You're awake!" came a voice, and Hafa started, having been so engrossed in the sensation of water that he had nearly forgotten where he was.

Hafa flashed his gaze over to the stone steps, where the same brunette he had seen earlier was descending. The man was dressed in a yellow turban and green cloth, with a black and white striped cloak falling over one massive shoulder. The man was rather tall, and had to stoop over somewhat as he cleared the last step and entered the storage room.

Hafa said nothing, half-tempted to try and leave, and half-tempted to ask for more water.

"Are you feeling alright? When I found you, I was almost sure you were dead. But from the looks of it, you pulled through just fine."

"How did you find me?" Hafa asked in a defensive tone. The man blinked at him, as if confused.

"It wasn't hard. I was selling some wares just outside the city, and I saw you collapse. You were so close to the city, too, it would have been a shame if you hadn't made it. So I brought you here to rest."

"My camel?" Hafa asked stiffly. He knew that a camel was as replaceable as anything else, but he and that camel had been through quite a lot together.

The man smiled good-naturedly, and moved to sit on a crate nearer to Hafa. "He's outside, helping keep an eye on the shop. He was rather insistent to come along, I couldn't very well deny him," he said with a laugh. "My siblings have taken a liking to him."

Hafa relaxed somewhat. The stone cup was still clenched tightly in his hand, as if it would produce more water the longer he held it and willed it so. He wanted to ask for more, so badly, but his pride held him back. Instead, he dropped his gaze to stare at the empty cup.

"I should thank you for helping me." Hafa said quietly, and the man laughed again.

"Oh really now? Well, I suppose I should say you're welcome. I did what anyone halfway decent would have done."

"Why did you call me 'Haru'?" Hafa asked suddenly. It had been preying on his mind ever since he woke up. The man's smile faded, and he cocked his head to the side and rolled his eyes upward in thought.

"I don't think I did," he finally said.

"I heard you," Hafa rebutted.

"I've never seen you before, so I doubt I would have started making up names for you," the man laughed reproachfully. "But I like that name, it sounds exotic. _Haru_. What is your real name?"

Hafa's gaze lowered and he stared off to the side of the room, fixing his eyes on a crack in the wall. "Hafa."

The man hummed, and nodded his head. "So similar! Hafa… _Gentle rain_ , right?" he said, but Hafa only frowned in reply.

"My name is Makarim. I think I'll call you Haru, though. It seems to suit you better. You can call me Mako, if you want… My friends call me Mako."

Hafa was just about to point out the fact that they were _not_ friends when Makarim spoke again, effectively silencing any possible comeback he could have thought up.

"You don't mind if I call you Haru, then? After all, djinns get renamed all the time by humans, don't they?" he asked.

Hafa's head turned so fast he nearly cramped his neck; his blue eyes locked intensely on Makarim, his expression indeterminable. His fight or flight instinct was buzzing wildly, but he knew he was in no fit state to do either.

Makarim smiled almost sadly. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to startle you. Believe me, I mean you no harm… I couldn't help but say something. I've never seen one in person before."

Boldly, Makarim left his perch on the crate and knelt down to Hafa's level, looking at his features fondly as one would stare at a priceless tapestry, or a lost relic. "I assumed djinn, but I don't know what breed you are. Are you an ifrit, or a marid, perhaps?"

Too surprised to even blush under the intrusive stares of the human, Hafa merely stared in surprise at the other man. Finally, he answered. "Marid." After speaking, he looked away.

"Oh? A sea-marid, perhaps? What in the world were you doing in the desert, so far away from water? And how did you end up in a mortal body?"

"How did you know?" Hafa asked, skirting all of Makarim's probing questions. "How could you tell?"

Makarim smiled softly and sat back, putting a more comfortable distance between the two of them, to Hafa's relief.

"My grandfather used to talk of djinn all the time. He was convinced they were real, and he told me all about them. He always told me that their eyes were the gateways to their souls, and once you saw the eyes of a djinn, you would never forget them," he said, glancing back at Hafa although the marid was trying hard to avoid his gaze.

"Your eyes look like the ocean. I've never seen anything like them before. And yet they seem so familiar... It's strange, isn't it?"

Hafa laughed through his nose, constantly marveling at the fragility and strange endurance of the human memory. He looked down at the cup again, and pride be damned, he wanted more.

"Is there more water." he said seriously, not even bothering to phrase it in the form of a question. Makarim shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, that's all I could spare for now. Water is hard to come by as of late, and it's incredibly expensive. The only water to be found anywhere around here is at the palace, and the Prince is rather protective of it."

Hafa started to attempt standing, and Makarim was on his feet in an instant. "Haru, what are you doing? You shouldn't be getting up, you need to rest-"

"Where is the palace?" Hafa ignored him, managing to stand. His legs still felt shaky, but he wasn't falling over, so he supposed that was a good sign.

Makarim shook his head avidly. "No, no no listen to me… You can't go waltzing into the palace demanding water, you'll be arrested on sight! No one gets near the palace these days without a good reason, Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din doesn't allow anyone to-"

"Stop," Hafa said, raising up a hand to silence the human, "Prince _Rim_ , did you say?"

Makarim blinked. "Yes," he said carefully, "does that name mean anything to you?"

"How long has he been living in the palace?" Hafa asked, his blue eyes blazing with an emotion that Makarim couldn't decipher.

"How long?" Makarim repeated, and then crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought once again. "You know, no one around here really knows. It's sort of a mystery to the entire city, an urban legend. It's as if he's always lorded over us, but he's so young in appearance- Hey, Haru, where are you going?!"

Hafa had gathered his things and straightened his clothes as Makarim had been talking, and was now walking past him and making for the stairs.

He stopped at the first step but did not look back. "Thank you for everything, but I need to go to the palace. I would be grateful if you watched my camel until I return." he said, and just like that, he had climbed the stairs and was gone, leaving Makarim in a stunned silence.

The dry city air hit Hafa like a wall as he exited Makarim's pottery shop. Hafa found his camel safely tethered just outside, gratefully eating wheat and oats in the company of Makarim's twin siblings, who introduced themselves as Rani and Ru'a. The twins expressed immediate interest and curiosity at Hafa's sudden appearance, but Hafa managed to pry them off of him and politely excuse himself after masterfully dodging all of their questions.

There were so many people crammed into the streets and so many voices and noises coming from every direction, Hafa felt more than a little uncomfortable and overwhelmed by it all. In his entire lengthy existence he rarely saw more than one or two humans at a time, and certainly never interacted with them in groups. He was wiser than that. Even after he had been thrust into this accursed mortal skin, he had been doomed to wander the desert endlessly, his only companions being animals he occasionally met along the way.

Very quickly Hafa felt sure that he was suffocating, and he quickly dodged out of the way of a passing group of humans and found a wall to keep himself upright; he wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he was sure it was a mortal sensation, something like fear mixed with a great unease that clawed at his chest and caused his breathing to hitch.

"Hey, mister? Are you okay?"

Hafa started at the suddenness of yet another human voice addressing him, and he realized how he must look, leaning against the wall with his head hanging low, looking very much as if he were about to be sick.

He glanced sideways at the owner of the voice. The blonde hair was noticed firstly and fore-mostly, an incredible rarity in this part of the world, and the boyish face and features wildly contrasted the well-built if not svelte figure of a young man. As if his hair and pink eyes weren't obvious enough, his skin was surprisingly pale, and he was adorned in bright colors and shining jewelry common to that of a dancer.

The man was looking at him with an expression of curiosity and worry. Hafa averted his eyes.

"Yes," Hafa said stiffly. The blonde young man clicked his tongue.

"You don't look okay," he pointed out, and after casting a furtive look around, he produced a small flask from the many layers of cloth tied at his hip. "Do you need some water, maybe?"

Hafa's neck nearly cramped yet again. He took his weight off of the wall and looked at the flask as if it were a gift from the Gods. "Are you sure?" Hafa asked, inwardly shocked at himself for not just downing the contents of the flask without another word. "I've heard that water is hard to come by, and-"

"People have to help each other! I've never seen you around before, so you may as well leave here knowing that there were some good people in this city. I don't mind if you have a drink or two," the man said with a bright smile and an endearing tilt of his head.

Hafa stared at the flask for another moment as if having a debate with it, but finally his desires got the better of him and he snatched the container out of the dancer's hands and put it to his lips, pulling only one drink from it's depths before quickly pressing it into the other man's chest, heaving a deep sigh from the sensation of water traveling down his throat twice in one day.

"Wow," the man said with a surprised laugh, pocketing the flask, "you act like you haven't had water in years!" The blonde's expression became slightly more subdued, and he glanced around them at the dirty streets. "Though… I guess that's really the state of the whole city, right now." he said regretfully.

Hafa followed the young man's gaze, and with a jolt of surprise he saw many people- some of them children- sitting and lying on the streets and in the alleys, tucked away out of sight, all of them looking ill or on the brink of death. Dehydration was taking them slowly, and Hafa swallowed a painful lump in his throat. Knowing the suffering of a mortal firsthand had given him a fair amount of empathy that he hadn't previously possessed, and seeing these poor people get passed by all the others moving about their lives as if they were invisible was uncomfortable to him. Even Hafa hadn't noticed them until the young dancer had pointed them out.

"Why doesn't anyone help them?" Hafa asked quietly.

The dancer smiled sadly. "There's not really much anyone can do. There isn't enough water to go around, so that's just the way it is. Don't think badly of them, they ignore them because they feel guilty."

" _You_ aren't ignoring them," Hafa pointed out, drawing a surprised look from the blonde man. "Why didn't you offer some water to them, instead of me?"

"A mouthful of water isn't going to save any one of those people," the young man said. "They're too far gone. To be honest, you just looked like you were going to be sick. There's a big difference."

Hafa looked at the ground, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "Why doesn't Rim _do anything_ about this?" he asked no one in particular, but the blonde dancer leaned forward, his eyes wide and sparkling in the mid-day sun.

"Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din? No one really knows what he's thinking about any of it, he stays in the palace almost all the time. We only ever see his soldiers out here in the city. Is that why you're here? Did you have some business at the palace?"

"I just want to see the water," Hafa replied, and the young man stared at him with a dumbfounded expression before bursting into peals of laughter.

"You're strange!" the dancer laughed, shoving Hafa's arm jovially. "I'm Najiya, by the way. What's your name?"

Hafa struggled with the question for a moment before deciding on an answer. It was best he not spread his individual designation all over the city until he knew exactly what was going on.

"Haru." he answered, with some finality.

"Haru?" Najiya repeated, and folded his hands behind his back, teetering on the balls of his feet. "That's a strange name, too! You're pretty strange all over, huh?"

Hafa closed his eyes in reply, and then looked around them once more. "Which way is it to the palace?"

Najiya made an odd, drawn out sort of sound that must have been attempting to convey confusion. "You're not _really_ going to the palace, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. But I don't know which way it is." Hafa replied coolly. Najiya stared at him with an open mouth for a moment longer before closing his eyes and pressing a finger to his temple.

"You really are strange." He pointed ahead of them. "It's just that way, on the other end of the city. You'll get lost without someone showing you around, though, these streets twist every which way and lead to some seedier parts of town. So I'll show you the way!" the blonde announced, pointing a finger to the sky in what looked like an attempt to be commanding.

Hafa sighed heavily, but wasn't really in the mood to object.

.

.

.

They hadn't gotten very far into the city before they saw a small crowd of people gathered around what looked to be a royal guard shouting at someone. Without hesitation, Najiya immediately grabbed Hafa and pushed the two of them through the quickly dispersing crowd.

As they neared, they found three guards circled around an old man, who was on his knees before them, his hands clasped around one another firmly. Hafa frowned. He usually didn't care very much about the affairs of humans, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach about the whole situation.

"Please, my daughter… She's very sick, she needs water! She'll die, _she'll die_ -"

"Not our problem, old man. Now shuffle off, and stop pestering us. We've got better things to do than listen to you make a fool of yourself." One of the guards mockingly pulled his flask of water from his side and drank deeply from it.

Najiya hissed through his teeth. "Those jerks!" he whispered angrily to Hafa.

The old man was far from giving in, however, and he advanced on one of the guards, his hands still folded together in a pleading manner. "Please, you don't understand! My daughter... We need water, the Prince has plenty, his people are dying-"

"I said back off!" the guard spat, and kicked the man forcefully in his stomach, sending him crashing to the ground with a wail. The remaining onlookers quickly and quietly fled the scene, leaving Hafa and Najiya. Hafa was just about to suggest they leave as well when the guards ganged up on the man, kicking and punching, delighting in the man's pain.

Hafa felt something inside of him snap, and when he chanced glancing at Najiya, the blonde had a fierce look in his eye, his pale hands balled and trembling. They nodded to one another, and Hafa advanced on the closest guard, grabbing the man's arm in mid-punch and pulling him back with more force than his modest frame would suggest possible.

The guard uttered a confused stutter as Hafa easily tossed him aside, and as the other guards noticed what had happened, they abandoned the old man and turned on him. Najiya flew in and struggled to help the old man up, glancing worriedly at Hafa.

Hafa glared defiantly as the guards circled him, jeering at him and holding up their fists threateningly. Hafa's calm gaze floated to Najiya, who had the old man's arm around his shoulders, looking lost as to what he should do next.

"Get him to safety," Hafa called, easily dodging a punch that had been thrown in the direction of his head. "We can find each other later."

Najiya looked torn for only a moment, before nodding resolutely and helping the man away and out of sight.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" one of the guards spat angrily, throwing another punch at Hafa, which was easily evaded. "Slippery one, aren't you?" another guard growled, trying and failing to grab Hafa's keffiyeh. Hafa moved almost like the water itself, and the guards were quickly growing tired of trying to land hits on him.

All at once, Hafa realized the opportunity that had presented itself. Everyone had been telling him how impossible it was to gain access to the palace, but the situation he found himself in almost ensured that he could get closer than he ever could have previously. If he was arrested, it was almost a certainty that he would be housed somewhere close to the palace, if not in the palace prison itself. And he certainly didn't mind getting roughed up a bit before making his inevitable escape. It was nothing he couldn't endure.

Hafa jumped back, putting his hands up in surrender. "I apologize," he said, and two of the guards grabbed his arms roughly and held him tightly between them, not giving him an inch to move. The third guard stood in front of Hafa, a smile pulling at his lips. "I understand you want to arrest me. Please take me to prison." Hafa finished, his voice even and without emotion.

Shining in the sun, a silvery glint of light reflected off of the guard's newly drawn sword and Hafa immediately realized his mistake.

The cold steel cut through Hafa's body like a knife through butter, and the sensation of tearing skin and rupturing organs was something that Hafa had never known. Hafa's mouth opened in a silent scream, the cold of the sword and the warmth of his own blood mixing together to create a symphony of incredible agony. The guard was sadistically twisting the blade around, and the marid choked on his own blood, eyes wide in disbelief and staring at nothing. His vision was blurring dangerously fast, and in a sudden graceful motion the sword was pulled from him and he crumbled to the ground like a jointed doll, coughing and sputtering and moaning.

One of the guards was kind enough to grab him by the hair and drag him to a fairly unoccupied alley, tossing him against one of the stone walls. Hafa's eyes could no longer focus on anything. The pain was thankfully subsiding, and as Hafa faded away, he could hear that name being called again, quietly and distantly, as if it were floating to him from the other end of a very narrow hallway.

And then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Rim's concubine knows more than he's letting on, Makarim agrees to break the law, and Najiya meets a certain megane palace officer.

"What kind of animal _is_ that?" asked Rim, the edge of the water brushing against his toes, his palms digging into the dirt behind him to keep him sitting upright comfortably.

The night was calm, the sky unbelievably dark but illuminated by a full moon which reflected beautifully off of the water's surface. The lights from the town behind them were dimming, and soon it would be time for Rim to head back.

Hafa swam closer to the young human, his blowhole producing a spout of clear water that Rim had to playfully dodge. There was no real need for his current form to _have_ a blowhole, but he found it to be quite fun to use.

"A dolphin," Hafa said simply, swimming farther away again and disappearing below the surface of the water. Rim giggled, and waited for Hafa to reappear before speaking again.

"What kind of animal is a dolphin? Does it really exist?" he asked the marid. Hafa swam around beautifully for a moment longer before answering.

"It is an animal that loves the water," he said distantly. The voice of a marid was a sultry mixture of light and smoke, drifting and languid and strange to the human ear, but Rim had grown used to it.

"Is that why you chose its form? Because it loves the water as much as you do?"

Hafa didn't answer, and once again dove down into the clear water, taking longer than usual to resurface. Rim watched him all the same, humming to himself and bringing his knees to his chest, hugging them.

"Is this your true form, then? I mean, is this what you really look like?" Rim continued curiously, as soon as he saw Hafa break the surface of the water. The first time he had seen Hafa he had been a blue crab, but almost ever since their first meeting Hafa had taken on this form instead.

"No." Hafa replied, glancing at the human as he swam on his side, one fin treading water gently. "We have no true form. We are not bound by physical confines. To be constricted to only one physical form is a mortal concept that I do not understand. Or envy," he said, and Rim rested his chin on his arms, grinning.

"I think that would be so fun to change form. Do you know what a shark is?"

"Yes," Hafa answered simply, splashing his tail. "There are shark infested waters just off the coast. I see them often."

"Really?" Rim chimed excitedly, his smile widening. "I used to hear stories about them. I would want to be a shark, tearing through the ocean, leaving everything behind, taking what I need with no one to stop me… And getting to swim with you! Aaahh, that sounds so amazing!"

Hafa's blue eyes fixed themselves on Rim as he spoke. He couldn't understand wanting to 'leave everything behind', or do anything other than enjoy what the water had to offer. But he knew that he liked these times with Rim the best, even if he didn't show it. And he knew that soon Rim would have to go back to the village, even though Rim never wanted to go back. It wasn't his home.

Although Hafa couldn't know what that felt like, he knew that if he were ever to be separated from the water, it would be the most terrible feeling in the world.

.

.

.

"Ahn, haah, Prince R-Rim… I… Soon, I'll…"

Aini leaned back into the waves of satin sheets, tossing his head back with a strangled moan. Rim grunted and slid his hands over Aini's pale inner thighs, spreading his legs wider to grant him better access.

The Prince's mouth slid slowly and teasingly along Aini's modest length, tongue working independently and licking up the shaft with agonizing care. His tongue flicked at the head and foreskin before gently taking the sensitive skin between his startlingly sharp teeth and nibbling. As Aini wailed in pleasure, Rim took the entire length into his mouth again, plunging it so far down he could feel it pressing into the back of his throat, and then he pulled his mouth away with an alluring wet popping sound.

Trembling and on the brink of orgasm, Aini stared at Rim through half-lidded eyes, his mouth open and producing incoherent noises. "Pl-please…" the boy pleaded mindlessly, his gaze trailing to Rim's crotch and focusing on the obvious hardness beneath the layers of expensive cloth.

Wordlessly, Rim stood up and untied the black sash at his hip, allowing the cloth to fall, his pants following suit. He stepped out of the pool of clothing at his feet and leaned his knees on the bed, positioning himself over Aini, his cock touching the smaller male's, causing him to intake breath sharply.

Rim reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, pressing them together, his hand slick from saliva and precum. He began to pump them both at once, and Aini cried out and arched his back, his hands flying to Rim's upper arms and holding him tightly. Rim's mouth opened and he sighed in satisfaction, his crimson eyes falling closed and working on creating a rhythm as he stroked them both in time.

Aini couldn't hold out any longer, and with a cry he came, his release loud and messy, as it usually was. Rim grunted and continued to stroke their cocks together roughly, focusing on the feeling of Aini's organ twitching and expelling the remainder of its seed; it wasn't long before Rim followed suit, his own cock shooting thick ropes of semen onto Aini's heaving stomach and chest. He groaned loudly as if in pain, and then fell forward on top of the smaller male, his breathing ragged.

"Aini…" he whispered softly into Aini's collarbone, and the silver-haired boy smiled and closed his eyes, always happy to hear his name coming from the Prince with such a fond inflection. It didn't happen often anymore, usually only during the heat of sex or in the afterglow.

Predictably, Rim pushed himself up and off of the bed, turning away from Aini and pulling his clothes back on. He walked to the table nearby and tossed a clean cloth at Aini, who had managed to sit up on the bed.

"You may go. Clean yourself up first." he said coldly, and Aini bit on his bottom lip, wiping off his chest and stomach obediently. He dressed himself shakily, the orgasm having left his body numb and hard to maneuver.

"I will tell the servants to prepare a bath for you. Have a pleasant evening, Prince Rim." he called from the door, but Rim said nothing. As Aini closed the door behind him, he could faintly make out the familiar cloud of smoke forming just behind Rim's back.

Aini's footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, dissolving into curved architecture and high sloped ceilings. The floor was smooth and reflected everything, chiefly the torches that burned on the walls that illuminated several stone fountains filled with clear, flawless water. The footsteps ceased, and Aini fixed his eyes on the water in one of the fountains. He felt more worried than usual today.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there in a fog, but soon another set of footsteps marked the arrival of someone approaching from behind. Aini snapped out of his thoughts and resumed walking, worried that it was one of the palace guards who enjoyed giving the Prince's only male concubine a difficult time whenever the chance presented itself.

"Aini, wait!" came a familiar female voice, and Aini stopped, turning with a smile.

"Princess Ghazi. Good evening." he offered as Ghazi came near, her lovely and complimentary outfit jingling and swishing as she hurried to him. Aini was one of two people the Princess allowed to call by her regrettably masculine first name instead of the name she preferred. They had been friends since they were very small, so it was one of the perks, Aini supposed.

Ghazi swept some crimson hair away from her eyes and smiled brightly at him. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Where were you?" the Prince's sister asked, slightly out of breath.

Aini noticeably flushed, and Ghazi took note of his rather disheveled appearance. She brought a knuckle to her lips and stifled an embarrassed giggle. "Oh… I see." she said cheekily, and Aini crossed his arms, glancing away and fixing his eyes on one of the many fountains.

Ghazi's expression softened. "How is he?" he asked softly, dropping her hands to her sides. "Any better?"

Aini frowned thoughtfully, meeting Ghazi's eyes with concern. "No. To be honest, I'm surprised he spoke to me at all… He's just getting worse and worse," he said, lowering his voice to ensure his opinion stayed between them. Part of him felt terrible… No matter how worried he was for the young Prince, he knew that Ghazi had much more reason than he to be concerned.

"I thought as much…" She sighed heavily. "I don't think my brother is telling me everything there is to know about what's going on outside the walls," Ghazi continued, biting absently at her thumbnail in thought. "Every time I ask him anything, he gets so defensive and angry. I tried to talk to him yesterday about how much water is being moved into the city, and he practically forbid me to talk about it."

Rubbing his arm awkwardly, Aini glanced once again to the water in the fountains. In the palace, water was everywhere. No one seemed to know where the water was coming from, and there was plenty of talk of Gods and demons and genies between the palace staff to explain away the phenomenon. Aini wasn't sure what to believe, but he knew that the amount of water they had at their disposal in the palace was more than enough for the entire city to live comfortably for years and years.

And yet, hardly any water was ever seen leaving.

"You told me a while ago that you thought Rim was afflicted by something," Ghazi said, surfacing Aini from his thoughts. "Do you still believe that to be true?"

Aini frowned in thought. Ghazi had never been much for talk of curses and magic, but Aini had always been inclined to pay mind to those sorts of stories. He was rather sensitive to things that others couldn't see or didn't want to see, which had always led him to be more open-minded.

He nodded resolutely. "I do," he said, and Ghazi sighed once again. She placed a hand to her cheek, tucking her elbow in her other hand.

"I heard my brother talking to someone the other day. When I walked into the room, he was speaking to someone so _angrily_ , and they were talking back to him in a strange voice I couldn't understand. But when I made my presence known, there was no one in the room with him. My brother was alone." she said worriedly. Aini chewed on his bottom lip, remembering the smokey presence he had seen before he had left Rim's private quarters.

"I don't see what we can do for him," Aini said, focusing hard on the ground. "If he won't even listen to his own sister, there's little hope for the rest of us." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter about it. Ghazi seemed to understand, though, and put a comforting hand on Aini's arm.

"He's not himself," she said softly, with a reproachful smile. "You know how much he cares about you, right?"

Aini offered Ghazi a smile in return and nodded. Lately, it had been a habit of his to try and remember the Rim he knew years ago- the Rim that _smiled-_ whenever he was feeling disheartened. It worked to quell his worries, but only slightly.

"Don't worry about me. Anyway, why were you looking for me in the first place? To ask about Prince Rim?" Aini asked the Princess curiously, and Ghazi cast a look around them.

"That was part of it," she said, her voice hushed, "but I wanted to talk to you about something else, too." She shuffled a bit closer to Aini, and he inched his face closer to hers.

"What is it?"

"I'm planning to go along with the guards tomorrow, to see how much water is being moved into the city for myself." she said seriously.

Aini paled. "Wh-What? Ghazi, you can't, you know that Rim won't allow it-"

"I'll be in disguise! They'll never know it's me!" Ghazi declared deviously. Aini pointedly eyed her up and down, and the action must have been enough to get the meaning across. "I'll be dressed as a merchant, of course!" she said hotly, her face flushing crimson. "But I was wondering if you could help cover for me while I'm gone... You know, just in case Rim is wondering where I am."

"And what exactly am _**I**_ supposed to tell him?" Aini asked exasperatingly.

"Anything! I'm sure you can come up with-"

The sound of wooden shoes clicking on smooth, stone floor behind them caused both Princess and concubine to start badly, and they immediately ceased talking.

It was Siraj al Din Ibn-Mouhsina, Grand Vizier to the Prince, an impressive man with fiery red hair and a hard-to-read disposition. As he passed them, he flashed them a charming smile and a respectful nod; his gaze wandered to Ghazi only long enough for her to be almost certain that he had heard them. In an instant, he was gone, his robes flowing impressively behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

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.

.

" _Haru! Haru, can you hear me_?"

It always felt like being pulled very forcibly from deep beneath the ocean currents. It wasn't altogether an unpleasant feeling, but it certainly didn't feel _good_ , either. The process of a mortal body spurring back to life was in of itself an abomination of nature, so it only stood to reason that it should be rather uncomfortable. Lungs suddenly contracted and filled up with air, and blood rushed from the previously unmoving heart to spread through the veins and burn like wildfire. It was an acquired taste, a flavor that unfortunately Hafa had grown used to over time.

"Haru!"

Hafa's eyes slowly opened, his pupils trying hard to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him on all sides. For a short moment he thought maybe he had gone blind, until he saw a dim light being moved over toward his face, and he could just make out Makarim's unmistakable broad shoulders, the light from a lantern illuminating the man's worried face.

Groaning weakly, Hafa squinted through the darkness at the man.

"Thank the Gods! You're actually alive. With this much blood lost, I didn't think you possibly could be… You're really something, aren't you?" Makarim said with a relieved chuckle, kneeling down close to the other man.

Hafa pushed himself up and winced; his hand slid to his stomach, but there was no longer any wound. He could still _feel_ it, a phantom pain, the cold steel cutting him through. He pulled his hand away and looked at it hard through the darkness, surprised to see no traces of blood.

"I cleaned you up as best I could," Makarim said worriedly, watching Hafa closely. "There was so much blood… What happened?"

The marid didn't answer right away, sweeping his gaze to stare directly into Makarim's eyes for an uneasy amount of time.

"I was killed, I suppose," he answered stoically, looking around. He didn't recognize his surroundings. He had his back resting against a warm stone wall, and the two men were currently positioned behind a large wooden wagon filled with hay. They looked to be in a back alley somewhere, and night had fallen over the city, the star-littered sky visible directly above them through the gap between the buildings.

" _Killed_? Well, there was certainly enough blood for that to be true." Makarim tilted his head at Hafa curiously. "Are you unable to die? Is that part of the curse, or is that your power as a djinn?"

Hafa was still staring at his hand. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly. Makarim set down his lantern and sat himself on the ground near the raven-haired marid.

"I went looking for you. After you left, I closed down the shop and headed for the palace, since I figured you would be heading that way. I probably wouldn't have found you at all if I hadn't heard a group of people talking about a palace guard executing a nameless traveler." he said, propping his knees up and resting his arms on them.

"No," Hafa said firmly, shaking his head. " _Why_ are you _here_? Why did you come looking for me? I don't understand."

Makarim regarded Hafa for a long moment with an expression of surprise. He chuckled and smiled warmly, causing the pit of Hafa's stomach to blossom with warmth for reasons he couldn't identify.

"I don't think I really understand, either. I just wanted to be sure you were okay. But I guess I was worrying too much," he said.

Unsure of what to say in reply, Hafa fell silent and again looked at his hand, his fingers curling inward and pressing hard into his palm. Humans were so confusing. Before he had been cursed into a mortal form, he had been wise to stay clear of humans whenever possible. They were greedy and manipulative, always trying to lure him with honeyed words and pitiful stories of their suffering that would have had anyone else sobbing before they'd even finished their tale.

But all they wanted from him was power, or riches, or the swift death of their enemies. _Wishes_. That's what is always came down to. He had only made the mistake of trusting a human once, and he was still paying for his glaring naivety in spades.

All of that considered, Hafa couldn't understand what it was that Makarim wanted from him. The man couldn't have known with any certainty that he was a creature born of magick when he'd picked him up from the sands, and even after having it more or less confirmed, he had done nothing to trap him. In the storage basement of his shop, he could have easily subdued him; in his weakened mortal form, it wouldn't have been terribly difficult. But he had given him water and a safe place to rest. He had let him leave unmolested. And now, he was braving the city to make sure he was okay.

What was it all for?

"I should thank you again," Hafa said evenly, finding it harder than usual to make eye-contact. "I'm causing you a lot of trouble."

"No trouble," Makarim said, picking up his lantern and standing up, offering his hand to Hafa. "It isn't every day that someone like you appears in our midst. I'm finding it all incredibly interesting."

Hafa eyed the out-stretched hand before taking it in his own and allowing Makarim to help him to his feet. His joints and muscles were still aching from the after-effects of reanimation, having been rudely pulled from their state of rigor mortis and forced to function.

He was only unsteady for a moment before mastering himself, and his vivid blue eyes swept their immediate area. "How far is the palace from here?" Hafa asked, and Makarim's mouth fell open.

"You can't still be serious about going there…?"

"I am," Hafa replied coolly.

Makarim brought a hand to his forehead and sighed. "There's no stopping you, is there?" he asked, to which Hafa did not reply. Another short silence followed, and Makarim groaned.

"Alright… Let's go, then. We'll have to make a stop on the way, though… I don't know if you need to sleep, but I've barely laid my head down tonight."

Hafa stared at Makarim so blankly that the taller man had to laugh. "I just worry when you run off on your own, so I may as well come along. I know the city better than almost anyone, and I have a feeling I could explain your way out of trouble a lot more effectively than you could. I might even be able to save you the trouble of getting killed. Again." Makarim said, bending to pick up a satchel filled with the various cleaning and medical supplies he had used on Hafa.

Hafa's gaze was unwavering. "I'll most likely be _breaking in_. You could be arrested, or worse."

Makarim grinned and walked past Hafa into a neighboring alleyway, motioning for Hafa to follow him. "I'm more resourceful than I appear. Now come on, I know a place nearby where we can get some rest before heading for the palace." he said, Hafa walking after him stiffly as if his legs were compelled to do so.

He still wasn't sure why the human was so eager to help him, but for some reason, Hafa wasn't inclined to deny him.

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.

Footsteps echoed ominously from behind, and Najiya pushed on, feeling sweat at his brow and a pain in his ankle. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw two of the guards emerging into the alley; just as quickly, Najiya tore around another corner, cursing under his breath.

Just after Najiya had helped the old man home, he had gone looking for Haru, but found no trace of him anywhere. He had looked for him until night had fallen, and had finally succumbed to sleep when it became too dark to search any longer.

Najiya had known that interfering with the situation hadn't been a good idea from the start, but he hadn't imagined the soldiers would be _this persistent_ to find him. One of them had caught sight of him in the marketplace in the early morning, and Najiya wasn't sure how much time had passed since then, but he had been running and hiding ever since. It was getting exhausting.

He hoped Haru had fared better than he.

As he turned another tight corner, Najiya's ankle finally failed him and he tripped, falling headlong into a wall. He hissed in pain and held his head as his vision spun out of control; he blindly felt for the offending wall and staggered to his feet. When he gained control of his vision, he saw that he was surrounded on all sides by four sneering palace guards.

"Oh… Hello," Najiya offered with an impish smile, his breathing still ragged.

"Why've you been running, blondie?" asked one of the guards, stepping closer to Najiya. With his back to the wall, Najiya couldn't back away any further.

"Well, you were kind of _chasing_ me," Najiya pointed out, shrugging casually, "so it seemed like the best thing to do."

"He's a cheeky one, this," commented one of the guards with a laugh. "Yeah," said another, getting uncomfortably close, so close that Najiya could smell the stink on him, "he is, isn't he? I heard we were supposed to arrest him for disturbing the peace yesterday along with that other brat."

"The asshole that was _executed_ , you mean?" another guard said mockingly, to which the first guard chuckled, leaning his arm on the wall above Najiya's head and pulling his face close to the blonde's. "Yeah, that one. I hope he wasn't a friend of yours, sweet-pea."

Najiya's eyes were wide. Something like that couldn't be true, could it? Everyone knew that the guards that came from the palace could be cruel, but executing a man without any sort of trial? Najiya's expression turned fierce, and he advanced on the man in front of him, unsure of what exactly he would be capable of doing but wanting to do _something_. He was easily grabbed by the other men and held firmly, although he did not cease struggling.

"You're lying! Why would you-? _How_ could you!"

"Fuck, he's a fighter, too!" a guard laughed, and the first guard pressed a hand to Najiya's cheek in an uncomfortably gentle way, caressing him. "You know, I think this one is too _pretty_ for prison. I say we take care of him in our own way. What do you say, blondie? No prison time, and we'll even throw in some water for you. It's a good deal. Although your knees might get a little sore..."

Najiya promptly spat in the man's face, and in reply received a sharp blow to his abdomen, dropping him to his knees with a groan. The guard wiped his face on his sleeve and scoffed. "Fortunately for you," he sneered, "I like them feisty."

"What's going on here?" came a sudden commanding voice, accompanied by the sound of footsteps coming from one end of the alley. Najiya was in too much immediate pain to move or look up, so he remained focused on keeping what little food he'd managed to eat that day in his stomach.

"Officer Reem!" There was a shuffling of footsteps, as if the guards were all scrambling to line up; surprised by this turn of events, Najiya managed to look up, his vision blurred.

The dark-haired officer that now stood facing the guards was wearing a slightly different uniform than the others. Deep purple cloth suggested that he held a higher position of power than the other men, and an impressive sword was strapped to his side. He wore eye glasses that were of a pale color; it was rare to see spectacles in the city, and Najiya couldn't remember ever seeing someone who owned a pair.

The officer's purple eyes flashed to Najiya behind the expensive glass, and then back to his men with an annoyed expression.

"Is this how you've been spending your morning? Hassling people in the streets?" Reem asked venomously, and one of the guards glared at Najiya with loathing.

"We were just about to arrest the brat here." he explained hastily, and Reem crossed his arms.

"On what grounds? By whose orders?"

"'Disturbing the peace', sir. And strictly speaking, we were acting without orders. We were upholding the law, which is part of _our job_ -"

" _Your job_ is to do as you're told. Prince Rim doesn't have time to deal with…" Reem waved a hand in Najiya's direction, "...this. And nor do I. Today, you're needed at the palace, like everyone else, while we prepare the water for selling. People are already lining up, and we haven't even moved the water yet. _Get back to the palace_. I'll deal with the whelp." he said, his eyes once again moving to Najiya.

"Yes sir!" The guards bowed their heads respectfully, although it was obvious they had other things they wished to say. They cleared out of the alley quickly, and soon Najiya and the palace officer were left alone.

Najiya wasn't sure what he had expected next, but it certainly hadn't been a hand extending towards him to help him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, and Najiya scoffed, regarding the hand in front of him for a moment before smacking it away and standing up on his own. The officer didn't seem very surprised, but he did appear reproachful, which took Najiya a little off guard.

"Your men killed an innocent man yesterday in cold blood. Why should you care if _I'm_ alright?" Najiya snapped.

If those men had been telling the truth and Haru had been executed, Najiya felt incredibly responsible. He had been the one to push his way into the situation in the first place, when they should have just kept walking… It wasn't fair for Haru to have paid that price.

There appeared to be a flicker of remorse behind the officer's eyes. "They aren't 'my men'. I rank above them, yes, but their orders come from the Prince. And regretfully, Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din has become lax in his discipline as of late. Men in positions of power can be easily swayed when they have no one to answer to for their actions."

Najiya frowned at the man determinedly for several moments before finally sighing in resignation. He rubbed his stomach, which was still burning with pain. "Well, you don't seem as bad as they are. Can't you do anything about them?"

The spectacled man shook his head and crossed his arms. "Only a few of us have any desire to keep this city from falling into shambles. Damage control is difficult, especially when there are so many things to see to. Although, I suppose that's a poor excuse for not being able to save a man's life…" the man trailed off, sighing. He looked down at the blonde with regret. "I'm sorry… If he was a friend of yours, or family…"

"I barely knew him, but I think he was a good man. He was just trying to help someone." Najiya replied quietly. A silence followed, and was ended only when Najiya coughed into his hand.

"Thank you for helping me," Najiya said, smiling at the royal guard charmingly. "I'm sorry I came off so angry. I didn't think there were any decent soldiers left in the city… Anyway, I'm Najiya," he said brightly.

The officer nodded his head, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small smile. "My name is Reem."

"Reem," Najiya repeated, as if he were testing the name out on his tongue, " _Beautiful gazelle_. Wait, isn't that a girl's name?" he giggled, and Reem immediately flushed.

"Najiya is a girl's name, too!" he exclaimed indignantly, and Najiya could only laugh harder.

The man adjusted his eye glasses and cleared his throat, hoping to change the subject. "You're a dancer, yes? I remember seeing you perform a couple of years ago, before…" he trailed off again, and Najiya's laughter slowly faded as he dusted off his clothes, which had gotten rather dirty during the earlier chase.

"...before everything changed?" Najiya finished with a sad chuckle, and Reem flushed somewhat.

"Y-yes. Back then, I remember you were… Quite beautiful." he said, and Najiya tilted his head in interest.

"Beautiful, really?" Najiya asked brightly, and Reem looked away hurriedly, fixing his gaze on the wall next to them.

"Your dancing. That's all I meant." he said, and then cleared his throat once again in an incredibly official manner. "They'll be bringing the water out soon." Reem reminded, his second attempt to change the subject, "I probably shouldn't be saying anything, but they're bringing less than usual this time. You'll want to get there as soon as you can, and be aggressive about buying some. You know that it's first come first serve."

Najiya stifled an embarrassed laugh. "I don't _exactly_ have any money this time around," he admitted, tapping a finger on his chin. "With the way things are right now, work isn't exactly plentiful, you know? It's okay though, I've been pretty good about rationing my water, so I should be fine for another week."

He _hadn't_ been good about rationing his water at all. He had a rather bad habit of sharing his water with others who seemed more in need of it, regardless of how much he had left.

Reem frowned and rested a hand on his hip. "You have enough water to last another seven days? From the amount they were selling last week?" he asked suspiciously, and Najiya only grinned in reply, teetering playfully back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I can make it work," he assured, rubbing his arm absently. Reem fixed his eyes on the wall next to them again and sighed.

"If it's work you need, I know where you can find some. And water, as well," he said. Najiya blinked at the man in surprise.

"Where?" he asked curiously. He half-expected Reem to suggest prostitution, as sex was the only other thing left in the city that people were willing to pay generously for. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, but right now he saw it as a last resort.

"Prince Rim has been requesting new entertainment recently. Dancers have been hard to come by, and since female dancers are _highly_ indecent, I suppose that Prince Rim would be pleased if you were to be hired at the palace."

Najiya's mouth fell open, and for once, he didn't quite know what to say. He had never expected to be offered a job at the palace, and had honestly never fancied the idea of working for the Prince. But beggars couldn't exactly be choosers. And if the guards had lied to him and Haru was still alive, that's most likely where the man would be headed.

"I thought you were going to say 'prostitution'!" Najiya admitted with a relieved laugh, and Reem's face immediately flushed pink and his cool composure faltered.

"Wh- How- No! I wouldn't- That's not beautiful at all!" Reem exclaimed, flustered, and Najiya held a hand over his own mouth to stifle the giggles.

Najiya shrugged up his shoulders endearingly and leaned in closer to Reem in a friendly way. "But dancing is beautiful, right?" he asked, grinning, and Reem looked down at the young man for a moment before pushing his eye glasses up the bridge of his nose and averting his eyes.

"Y-yes. I believe it can be." he said, red-faced. Najiya's smile broadened.

"Okay, then!" he exclaimed cheerfully, grabbing Reem's arm and linking it in his own, "Take me to the palace!"

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It had all gone surprisingly well.

As most of the guards filed into the front of the palace, their swords gleaming in the sun and strapped snugly to their sides, the rest of the procession went rather unnoticed. Merchants hired to sell the water also had the job of carrying it outside in huge wooden barrels, and Ghazi tried her best to hold up her end although she severely lacked the physical strength. Luckily, no one had cast her a second look. The merchants typically wore so many layers of cloth and robes, she was practically covered from head to toe and blended in perfectly.

Soon there were only a couple of barrels left to move. Ghazi couldn't believe how little of it was leaving the palace; the amount they were about to sell was little more than the amount that swam uselessly in the fountain in her bedroom every single day.

Ghazi silently followed the other merchants back into the palace to retrieve the last of the water, frantically thinking of when to make her exit. She had seen what she had come to see, but she couldn't be gone too long or Rim would most definitely notice that she was missing. Just as she was contemplating this dilemma, a hand firmly clamped down on her shoulder from behind, and another hand planted itself to her mouth to prevent a surprised yelp. Giving her no time to struggle, she was pulled gently into the shadows of the hallway and then into an empty corridor just as quickly.

When finally Ghazi's senses returned to her, she pulled away from her captor, staggering a bit as she was released, her white turban slipping and falling to the ground. Standing before her was the Grand Vizier, his mouth curled into an apologetic grin and his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture.

"Now, Princess…"

"Siraj al Din Ibn-Mouhsina!" Ghazi put a hand to her chest, taking in a relieved breath. She glared up at him fiercely. "Just what were you trying to do? You are not permitted to touch me-"

"If Prince Rim were to catch wind of this, he would be furious. There are better ways of gathering information than disguising yourself and risking being discovered." Siraj al Din said, blazing amber eyes locked on Ghazi's with purpose.

Ghazi's expression deflated. "Do you… Plan on telling my brother what you saw here?" she asked him, and the Grand Vizier lowered his hands and offered Ghazi a kind smile.

"I have no intentions of telling Prince Rim any of this. I came here to help you." the man said, and Ghazi inclined her head toward him suspiciously.

"Help me with… _What_ , exactly?"

Siraj al Din crossed his arms over his chest. "There is more wrong with your brother than you know," he said in a hushed voice. He cast a look around them and then turned, his cloak swishing around him. He glanced back at her. "If you want to know what I know, you'll come with me."

As the Grand Vizier strode down the hall, Ghazi watched him go and considered his offer for only another fleeting moment before hurrying after him.

She needed to know what was happening to Rim. And at this point, she didn't care at what cost.

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_Journal of Reem Ruqayyah_

_Jumādā I 22nd, xxxx_

_Tomorrow is my birthday. I am turning 11._

_My father is taking me hunting to celebrate, and I am quite excited as I've only ever helped clean the animals afterwards, and helped to carry the game home. Mother is nervous but hasn't said anything about it._

_Something happened today. A palace rose from the sands._

_A gigantic palace that wasn't there before now sits just at the edge of the city. It made the ground creak and rumble and everyone ran outside to see it. But even as I write this I feel that the palace has always been there. But I know I saw it rise up just minutes ago._

_There was chaos when it first appeared, but now all of the adults are acting normally. They too feel that the palace has always been there, and that Prince Rim has always ruled over us. It's hard to remember if that's true, but I know what I saw. I needed to write it down right away, so I don't forget like the rest of them._

_But even as I write, I feel myself forgetting._

_Tomorrow is my birthday. I am turning 11._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hafa and Makarim break into the palace, Ghazi sees something she shouldn't, and Reem and Najiya interrupt a private moment.

It was a marvel how easy it was to dazzle human children.

The jointed doll danced awkwardly on the bed, stuffed legs and arms flopping without any real rhythm or guidance; all the same, Ghazi clapped her hands, gasped and laughed joyously, and Rim watched his sister fondly as the doll danced on.

Hafa finally removed his influence from the doll, and it landed softly into Ghazi's lap. She picked it up and hugged it, her large eyes watching for Hafa as he returned to a corporeal form and returned to the water basin. Today he was a blue crab, but only so that he may comfortably fit inside of the water basin Rim had provided for him while he visited their home.

"You're amazing, Hafa!" Ghazi exclaimed, her face pink from laughing. She yawned hugely, rubbing one of her eyes. "You're so funny..." she added, her voice quickly losing enthusiasm. Admittedly, it was long past her usual bedtime.

"Are you sleepy, Ghazi?" Rim laughed. She nodded, hugging her doll to her chest more tightly. "You can sleep here in my room, then. Get some sleep." Rim suggested, and the girl easily flopped onto her side, still holding onto her doll. Rim shifted from his position on the floor to toss a blanket over her, and in no time at all, she was asleep.

Rim pulled his knees to his chest and glanced over at Hafa, who was almost completely submerged in the water aside from his face. As a crab, it was hard to tell where he was looking.

"Thank you for being so kind to Ghazi," the boy finally said, and Hafa used his claws to pull himself out of the water a little more, to give the appearance of understanding. "She's been through so much. You make her really happy when you pull those little stunts."

"You've been through just as much." Hafa pointed out, his tone apathetic.

Rim shrugged his shoulders with a grin. "I guess. But I have to look out for her. That job's mine now."

Hafa wasn't sure how to respond, and so he dunked himself entirely in the water. It was his usual reaction to dealing with something he didn't understand. Water helped everything to make more sense.

When he resurfaced, Rim had another question.

"Hafa, can you be without water? What I mean is, without water, would you die?" he asked, and Hafa was very nearly glad that crabs couldn't make facial expressions, because the question struck him as rather odd.

"No, I wouldn't die," Hafa said, once again pulling himself half-way out of the water via his mis-matched claws. "I shall not know death for centuries. But I would be very lonely."

"Lonely?" Rim asked, tilting his head with a quizzical expression. "How does _water_ keep you company?"

A long silence followed this question, and for once, it wasn't Hafa being difficult or aloof. He honestly wasn't sure how to answer in a way that a human could understand.

"The water is older than anything else," Hafa finally said, the blue crab dissolving into vapor and rising over the basin, pulling the water with him into the air. The water swirled and snaked, weightless and mystifying, and Rim watched with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. "It is wise. It is comforting. My being exists within the water, and without its embrace, I would only be half of who I am. That is all."

The water returned to the basin, but the marid remained in his smoky form, although the smoke now strongly resembled a dolphin as it floated around the room airily.

"Oh," Rim said with a surprised chuckle. "I didn't know water was like that."

"I know," Hafa said indifferently. Silence fell again, and Hafa's energy finally calmed, sending him back to the water basin to once again take the form of the crab. He was comfortable with silence, and did not attempt to make conversation.

A long time passed. For Hafa it was over in an instant, but for Rim, it felt considerably longer. The only sound to be heard was little Ghazi's steady breathing as she slept peacefully, and Hafa nearly thought that the boy had fallen asleep as well until he spoke again.

"Hafa…" Rim started softly, and Hafa snapped out of his reverie to regard the boy. Rim's expression looked darker, as if he had just come back from harsh and difficult thoughts. "We don't belong here, Hafa. I _hate_ it here."

Hafa always had a hard time understanding Rim's distaste with their circumstances.

"The villagers are kind to you and your sister. You have food and water here."

"I know that! But it's not home. Home was taken from us. It's not _fair_." Rim spat angrily, his voice hushed to avoid waking his sister.

"A great many things are unfair. There is nothing to be done about that." Hafa offered, trying hard to understand what it was Rim wanted to hear.

Rim fidgeted a bit. "Well… There _are_ things that can be done, sometimes," he suggested uneasily. Hafa said nothing. Rim bit on his bottom lip, avoiding Hafa's piercing gaze. "You're very powerful, Hafa. You have so much magic you can use, so why not-"

"No," Hafa cut him off, his voice much more stern than it usually was. Rim flashed him a desperate look.

"Why not!"

"Because that isn't how it works," Hafa asserted, the crab turning away from the boy. Rim felt bitter tears burning just behind his eyes.

"How does it work, then? Marids can grant wishes, can't they? Anything in the world?" Rim's voice was rising in volume, and behind them Ghazi shifted in her sleep, gaining her brother's attention. He hastily glanced back at his sister, and when he had confirmed that she was still sleeping, he looked back to the basin. He half-expected Hafa to be gone, but the blue crab remained. "I'm just… I just want to know why you can't help us with magic." Rim whispered, his throat tight with suppressed tears.

Hafa sighed heavily. In his crab form, it was quite literally impossible to convey any sort of emotion.

"Some things are meant to be. If djinns fixed every human problem in the world, human life would no longer hold any meaning. There is much suffering in the world, Rim. I'm sorry about what happened to your parents, and your village, but this is your home now. You and your sister were lucky to survive, and now you can build a life here. Isn't that enough?" Hafa asked, his voice lacking it's usual detached inflection. He sounded almost hurt.

Rim bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying. "I… I'm sorry… I didn't mean that I was ungrateful for what you've done for us already... Without you, we probably would have died that day out by the water… I just…" The boy furiously wiped away a stray tear that had escaped, and let out a trembling sigh. "I just wish everything could be the way it used to be, and I knew you had the power to do that, so…"

"Do you intend to try and capture me, Rim?" Hafa asked suddenly, and Rim was struck silent. "You must know that it's the only way to force me to grant your wishes. Has that thought been on your mind?"

It took Rim a moment to process the question, and when he finally had, he moved on his hands and knees toward the basin. The crab was gone, replaced by the familiar smoky vapor that was slowly fading away.

"Hafa, no! No, that's not what I meant… I would _never_ … I swear, I could never do that to you!" the boy pleaded, tears clouding his vision. Only silence answered him. Rim cried softly, wiping his tears away on his sleeve. "Please believe me, that's not what I meant… Please don't leave, Hafa, don't be cross with me… Without you, I…" the boy looked around the room for a moment but saw no trace of the smoke, and he felt sure that Hafa had left him. He cried, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms.

A cool breeze blew some of the crimson hair away from the boy's forehead, and Rim suddenly felt what was unmistakably a spectral hand brushing through his hair comfortingly. He looked up to see the soft bluish smoke he had grown so used to, and smiled sadly, uttering a relieved laugh. "You're still here…" he whispered, sniffling.

"Yes." Hafa replied, his smoky form wrapping over Rim's shoulders comfortingly. He wasn't sure why he stayed. He had never intended to get close to a human, and his relationship with this troubled young boy lacked all reason and logic. There was nothing that benefited him here, but still he remained. He felt a connection to him, a nameless kinship. It was something he couldn't explain.

"I won't leave you." Hafa promised, and Rim cried quietly for a time longer.

.

.

.

"Haru, slow down! Wait!"

Makarim was forced to grab Hafa's vest before the man exposed their position, pulling him back behind the giant stone pillar they were currently using for a hiding place. Hafa frowned at the taller man.

"I can see a way in from here. There's no sense in waiting."

Makarim sighed patiently. "There's a lot of sense in waiting, actually. There's a guard over there, and although there's only one, that's plenty enough to alert the others. We have to be careful about this, Haru." he said reproachfully.

Hafa crossed his arms and glared at the guard perched just in front of the large doors at the side of the palace. The doors were wide open, and Haru wasn't sure why until he saw a couple of merchants come out, carrying chairs and umbrellas and other items to aid them for a lengthy day of selling water. The front of the palace was currently too crowded to comfortably move anything, so the side entrance must have been some sort of store room for equipment used by the servants.

"Only one of them," Makarim observed, staring down the palace guard with a furrowed brow as he brainstormed. "On any other day, I'm sure there would be more security out here. But everyone is so busy in front, and there are so many people, they must be short handed." Makarim's eyes widened suddenly, and Hafa looked at him with impatient curiosity.

"Well? Did you think of something?"

"I think so. We need a distraction of some kind. If we can get this guy to move, even if it's only for a minute, maybe we can get inside." Makarim suggested, and then craned his neck to better view the crowd of people gathered at the front of the palace. He smiled, and then looked back to Hafa. "I think I have a plan, but you need to stay exactly here, and don't move until I come back. Okay?" Hafa nodded, and watched as Makarim stealthily worked his way into the ever-growing crowd of eager people.

Hafa leaned his shoulder against the pillar and waited. He didn't have to wait long before he noticed a change in the crowd, like a chain reaction; at first, it was just a few people speaking a bit more loudly than before, but very quickly, the talking turned to angry shouting, and all of a sudden the entire group of humans seemed dangerously close to rioting. The guards looked surprised, but were quickly working to calm the people down, and not long after the shouting started, the guard at the side door walked away to see what all the fuss was about.

Makarim reappeared at Hafa's side, slightly out of breath. "It worked! Let's go, quickly," he said in a hurried whisper, and carefully, the two of them ran for the open doors and rushed inside.

The storage room was narrow and cluttered, and both the men very nearly tripped on the debris littering the floor which consisted mostly of wooden stools, brooms and broken table legs. Thankfully the door to the room was not far off, and Hafa and Makarim made for it wordlessly, staying mindful of their surroundings.

The door opened into a narrow corridor. From the state of it, it appeared to be a hallway mainly used by the servants; when the two men were quite sure they were alone, they started off down the hallway together with haste.

Despite their current situation, Hafa allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. "What happened back there? What did you do?"

Makarim smiled awkwardly. "I may have mentioned to a couple of people that the soldiers were charging _three times_ the regular price for water," he said in a quiet voice. "I believe it worked a little _too_ well."

"Aren't you worried about people getting hurt, or getting arrested? What if they riot?" Hafa asked. Although he personally wasn't terribly concerned about such things, he assumed that Makarim would feel dreadful if anything happened to the humans on his account.

"Those people can handle themselves better than you think," Makarim remarked with a chuckle. "But I don't think it will come to that. As soon as the rumor gets quelled and the water starts rolling out, everyone will calm down."

The hallway ended abruptly and forked off into two directions, both heading deeper into the palace. The men stopped just at the end of the hall, crouching down although there was absolutely nothing useful to hide behind. There seemed to be no one coming from either direction, but the sound of a pair of people talking avidly echoed from their left, presumably palace soldiers.

Hafa turned to Makarim. "You can still turn back." he suggested, lacking any sort of conviction. Makarim smiled.

"I've come a bit too far to turn back now," he pointed out. "Which way?" he added, surveying their options.

Hafa looked down the hall to their right. His gaze was rather fixed, and Makarim followed his lead and stared down the hall. "That way? How do you know?"

"I feel it," Hafa said distantly. "The water is there."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised about any of that," the brunette sighed, and the two of them stole off down the hall.

.

.

.

"Where are we?" Ghazi asked, hugging her arms as the temperature slowly declined. They had been descending for so long the Princess was no longer sure how far underground they had gone. The stairway was ominous and illuminated only by the Grand Vizier's lantern. "I didn't even know this was _here_. Where does it lead?"

"Speaking about such things up above is too risky," Siraj al Din said, continuing their descent. "I think you'll agree, considering how easily I overheard your plans yesterday."

Ghazi frowned. "Tell me what you know about my brother."

Siraj al Din stopped walking, and he turned back to meet the Princess's stare. "Your brother, the Prince, is under the influence of a powerful magick," he said, sighing. "Whatever the entity is that has infected him, it is consuming him little by little. It is an entity that has filled his heart with greed. I fear that in time, he will no longer be himself."

Ghazi groaned and shook her head. "You, too? There has to be a more logical explanation, something that isn't so-"

"Forgive me, Princess, but I believe that even _you_ can't deny that something odd is happening. Can you even remember how you came to live here? How you and your brother attained these riches, or your royal status?"

An uneasy silence fell over the narrow stone stairway. Siraj al Din must have found that to be an acceptable answer, for he turned and continued his descent. "There is more. Come, there is something you need to see."

.

.

.

Aside from having to hastily hide from a couple of guards making their rounds and a few servants rushing about, Hafa and Makarim hadn't had much trouble getting to their destination. The palace inhabitants were being kept rather busy by the city dwellers just outside, and Hafa also suspected that no one had ever been foolish enough to attempt violating the sanctity of the inner palace without permission, and therefore none of the guards ever expected it to happen. Or perhaps they had just gotten lazy.

Hafa turned another corner, and placed his hands against a set of large oval double doors.

"In here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Makarim swallowed, his heart hammering wildly from the danger of the entire escapade.

"Alright, Haru, _anything_ could be in there, so let's be careful and-"

Makarim was interrupted by Hafa banging the doors open recklessly, and the taller man's voice failed him, the bottom of his stomach icing over in terror. As they looked into the room, neither man said anything, but for entirely different reasons.

Before them was a gigantic, majestic room, the likes of which neither man had ever seen before. Windows were positioned at an angle against the tall sloped ceiling, letting in so much natural light and warmth that it almost felt like they were outside. Gold and ivory adorned the walls and pillars, and beautiful plants accented the room, foliage that would never survive the harsh climate outside the palace walls.

The point of interest, however, was the deep, oval-shaped groove in the floor filled with crystal clear water in the center of the room.

A soft sob escaped Hafa's throat, and in less time than it took for Makarim to stutter a warning, Hafa was running toward the water, his clothing discarded piece by piece down to his undergarments before diving into the water seamlessly.

The sensation of water against him and on all sides was more incredible than he ever imagined possible. Hafa closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the depths of the cool water, trying to feel it in his every pore. He no longer cared if he was caught. He didn't care about anything. The torturous years of wandering the desert didn't even seem important anymore. He was with the water again, and that was all that had ever mattered.

Hafa attempted to move in the water. His movements were awkward and jerky at first, as he had never been in a wholly physical body when swimming, but he developed a technique fairly quickly. Learning how to use his legs to propel himself forward and his abdomen muscles to keep himself in motion, Hafa quickly mastered the art, his mortal body seemingly quite suited for swimming.

There was a burning pain in his chest, something Hafa had never felt before, but he was far too happy to care. He swam, the water rushing past him and seeping into his skin and soul; he opened his eyes and could just make out Makarim's silhouette against the surface of the water, gesturing to him to come out. He didn't want to. He never wanted to leave ever again.

The pain and tightness in his chest was incredible, and finally Hafa realized his problem: he had been holding his breath. Hafa opened his mouth to let the water in, and immediately he gagged and sputtered, recoiling in the water as if he had been bitten. He felt light-headed, and in his confusion, he nearly didn't feel the pair of strong arms snake around his middle until he was being pulled upward.

Hafa broke the surface of a water with an enormous gasp for air, followed by coughing. Makarim kept a tight hold of him and swam them both carefully to the most shallow end of the oasis, where both men could easily stand above water level. He released Hafa but kept a firm hold on one of the marid's arms to keep him steady.

"Haru! Haru, are you okay?" he asked worriedly as Hafa continued to cough and wheeze, his lungs working tirelessly to intake air. After a moment, Hafa managed to look around; Makarim's clothing laid in a haphazard pile next to the water's edge. It seemed as if the man had rather hastily jumped into the water to save him. Hafa felt surprised. He couldn't believe that Makarim was even comfortable _being_ in water, let alone diving in to save someone. Much had changed over the years, he supposed.

"I can't breathe under water," Hafa observed calmly, once he had stopped coughing. Makarim fussily wiped some dark hair away from Hafa's eyes.

"No, humans can't do that. We need air." he said with a relieved sigh. "Haru, we should go so-"

"The water has changed," Hafa said softly, his eyes watching the water with a soft expression. "I've changed even more, I suppose. I forget time and time again how vulnerable this mortal body is..." Hafa fell silent, something like sadness burning behind his eyes until he turned to Makarim with a strangely sincere expression.

"I haven't thanked you yet," he said quietly, and Makarim stared at the man in astonishment. "Without your help I wouldn't have come this far. You keep helping me at great risk to yourself, and I'm grateful."

Makarim fell silent, slowly removing his grip from Hafa's arm. "Haru…" he replied, unsure of what to say in response to the unexpected show of gratitude. Not seeming to pay any mind to Makarim's stunned silence, Hafa effortlessly floated away, returning to the deeper end of the oasis.

"H-Haru, we should be going. I _know_ this is important to you, but we need to be careful-"

"I'll remember to come up for air this time," Hafa assured, dunking himself into the water again.

"That's not really what I was referring to," Makarim sighed, and leaned his elbows behind him. It couldn't be helped, really, and he simply didn't have the heart to deny Hafa this pleasure.

Ten miraculously undisturbed minutes went by, and Makarim was silent but vigilant as Hafa enjoyed the water. Makarim had to admit, Hafa was a beautiful swimmer. It was never more obvious that Hafa had once been a sea marid than it was now, and it almost pained him that eventually they would have to leave, forcing Hafa to return to the dusty, waterless, blazing hot city.

Just as Makarim was going to strongly suggest they leave, Hafa surfaced just in front of him, water streaming from his hair and off of his shoulders, his expression downcast. The close proximity of their bodies and the heady expression in Hafa's eyes caused Makarim's face to flush and his heart to pound in his ears, although he wasn't sure why.

"Haru, are you ready to go?" he asked the man softly, almost as one would speak to a child, being careful to appeal to their sensitivities.

Hafa didn't reply, his blue irises flicking upward up to meet Makarim's eyes and hold his awkward stare. Makarim felt his mouth become dry under Hafa's cryptic gaze.

"Haru…?" Makarim stammered, and that was all he managed to say before Hafa shortened the distance between their bodies and closed his mouth firmly and purposefully over Makarim's.

Hafa wasn't entirely sure what had come over him, but whatever it was it was _strong_ and seemed to overtake his sense of control and inhibitions with horrifying ease. It was similar to his desire to feel the water, _very_ similar, except it was friction he wanted to feel, friction and heated skin and a slick tongue in his mouth.

Experimentally, Hafa boldly moved his lips against Makarim's. Slowly and almost timidly, Makarim followed Hafa's lead, kissing him back with a muffled whine that sent shivers up Hafa's spine. The thought of danger was a far cry away from where they were now, a fleeting reminder that was getting increasingly pushed away by the tirade of sensations. Makarim struggled to make sense of the situation and had a mind to stop whatever _this_ was before they were potentially caught, but all rational thought flew away as Hafa shifted and intentionally pressed their pelvises together.

Makarim broke away in surprise and let out a soft groan that sounded almost pained; Hafa silenced him by once again crushing their mouths together, kissing him as if struck with fever. Makarim could feel Hafa's hardness pressing into his thigh as Hafa brought his hands to the taller man's broad shoulders, fingers treading firmly over muscle and giving him the leverage he needed to grind his arousal against Makarim's own growing hardness under the water.

Tongues fought for entry into each others mouths, and their kissing was sloppy and inexperienced but heated and passionate; Makarim pulled away from the kiss once more to breathe, gasping pitifully as Hafa bucked at him again, the marid's hands sliding slowly from Makarim's shoulders and down his arms, then to hold tightly to the stone siding of the oasis on either side of the other man. Hafa kissed and bit at Makarim's neck and jawline, earning him lewd sounds that only caused more discomfort in Hafa's loincloth. As he pressed his lips to the man's neck he could clearly feel the pounding of Makarim's pulse, savage and filled with uncertainty; he bucked at the man again, allowing their lengths to rub against one another through the thin layers of cloth between them.

Trembling, Makarim grabbed onto Hafa's sides to keep himself steady, his breathing ragged and punctuated with soft moans and sharp intakes of breath.

"H-Haru.. We shouldn't be-... Aah…"

Hafa's head felt fuzzy and strange, almost as if he'd lost too much blood, but it was all so _good_ that he was finding it impossible to stop. He continued bucking and grinding against Makarim, his cock aching badly for some sort of release that he didn't fully understand. Makarim's voice was becoming higher-pitched and his moans and whines were increasing in frequency. Hafa pulled away to look at Makarim's face and he blushed at the man's expression, brows knitted together as if in pain, mouth open and panting and pleading, lips flushed from kissing. It was alluring in an unexpected way.

Flushing under Hafa's stare, Makarim choked out another moan, his hips now moving against Hafa's desperately as they picked up the pace. A second later he grabbed Hafa's arms as if a sudden fear had struck him. "Haru _stop_ , I'm going to… Haahh… Aah…"

Hafa felt the same way. _Something_ was going to happen, although he wasn't sure what that was, but he wanted it badly. He pressed his forehead to Makarim's, the two of them breathing and grinding in time, and he could feel something powerful building in the pit of his stomach and in his groin. It would have alarmed him if he hadn't been so far gone.

What also may have alarmed him was the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing in the hall just behind the door.

Makarim was the first to react. His face paled and he pulled away from Hafa, placing a hand firmly on the other man's chest and listening hard. Hafa's eyesight was slightly blurred from arousal, but the fear on Makarim's face was clear; _someone was approaching_.

In a flurry of limbs and water, both men unsteadily leapt from the oasis, grabbing clothes and hastily dressing themselves. There didn't appear to be many places to hide, but Makarim grabbed Hafa's arm and yanked him toward a cluster of huge, exotic plants with enormously wide leaves.

They dove behind the safety of the leaves just as the double doors opened and two men stepped into the room.

.

.

.

The Princess and Grand Vizier finally reached the end of the staggeringly long staircase, leading them to a cold, round chamber lit by torches. There was nothing of interest in the chamber save for a stone pedestal in the very center, and on the pedestal sat a rather old and worn brass hookah. Nothing about the hookah seemed very special, except for the fact that it was glowing a rather fierce shade of blue.

"What is this…?" Siraj al Din seemed perturbed by the state of the old pipe, and he held an arm out, gesturing for Ghazi to stay put. She did, far too confused about what she was seeing to want to approach the object.

"Why is it doing that?" Ghazi asked in alarm, as Siraj al Din walked carefully around the pedestal, inspecting the glowing hookah closely. "What is this place?"

Siraj al Din crossed his arms and stared at the pipe with a furrowed brow. "This place exists to hold this object, as far as I can tell," he started, "I found it a couple of years ago. I said nothing of it, because I wasn't sure who put it here, or for what purpose. The only thing I can be absolutely certain of is that a strong curse is tied to it."

"I can believe that," Ghazi said as the bluish glow suddenly flared up, like a flame to a fire, and then settled again.

"But I've never seen it do this before. It began glowing yesterday morning, very faintly, but it was not like _this_ last I saw it. It's positively burning now." he said in a troubled tone.

"Do you think that this… _Whatever_ this is, has something to do with my brother? Is it cursing him?" Ghazi asked worriedly.

Siraj al Din sighed heavily. "I couldn't tell you. It's not unrelated, but without knowing the nature of the curse on this pipe, I'm afraid I just can't say for sure."

Ghazi slowly approached the hookah; the smoky blue glow surrounding the object looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't place why. "Alright. Let's say that this thing is cursed, and it's affecting Rim. How can we break the curse? Can't we destroy it?" she asked, and in response, Siraj al Din looked around the room before walking away and stooping over to retrieve a burnt-out torch from the floor. He walked back to the pedestal, and tossed the torch at the pipe; as soon as the torch came near it was deflected violently backward by an unseen force and hit the wall with a clatter.

"There is dark magic being used to keep it from harm," Siraj al Din explained. "I haven't been able to find a way to get to it."

Ghazi chewed on her bottom lip, her chest tightening in fear. Aini had been right all along. Something other-worldly was possessing her brother, and she was quite possibly staring at the source.

"Well, we have to try! This glowing, it has to mean _something_ , don't you think?" the Princess asked the man.

The Grand Vizier had been fumbling around in his robes for several seconds, and finally produced a silver amulet covered in carvings from one of the pockets, approaching Ghazi and offering to put it around her neck with a polite gesture.

"May I?" he asked, and Ghazi hesitantly moved her hair aside to allow the necklace to be slipped over her head.

"What is this?"

"It's a ta'wiz. It will protect you from harm." the man responded, and Ghazi held the metal in her hand, running her thumb over the rough surface.

"Do you really think I need something like this?" she asked in a small voice. Siraj al Din smiled reproachfully.

"The object is reacting to something, that much is certain. Whatever it is, it's coming nearer to the palace. Judging by the state of it now, it may already be here. I'm unsure if it is coming to help us or hinder us, however. So it's best to be careful." he said seriously.

Ghazi slipped the cool metal amulet into her clothes and out of sight. "Why even tell me all of this? What can I do, when you've already got so much of this figured out?"

Siraj al Din placed a hand comfortingly on Ghazi's shoulder. "You're his sister. His only blood. You deserve to know what's happening, at the very least. But I feel like if anyone can help the Prince, it's you. And we appear to be running out of time."

The hookah continued to glow and distort, and Ghazi stared at the object for a long moment. She had never felt very helpful to her brother. When they were younger, it was he who had taken care of her, keeping her happy and healthy and free of fear. She had blindly accepted all of their good fortune back then, because she felt strongly that Rim deserved it more than anyone. Had everything been the product of some curse all along?

Her mind wandered to memories from long ago, memories that involved magic and mystery and a kind entity that had helped them in their time of need. Since then, Rim had assured her that none of it had been real, that there had never been someone named Hafa. The resentment in Rim's eyes everytime he spoke of it was something she never gave a second thought to. She turned a blind eye to it on purpose. She didn't want to admit what she knew was true.

She never wanted to accept that her brother was lying.

.

.

.

"Najiya, stop running around! You can't do as you please just because-"

"Ooh, Reem, what's in here? What's this room?" Najiya asked excitedly, pointing to a pair of double doors to their left as they walked. Reem sighed.

"It's not exactly a room, that's the hall that leads to the kitchens. Now let me just show you where you'll be sleepi-"

"What about in _here_?" Najiya's eyes were wide and shining, and he slid his hand over another pair of huge double doors, glancing at Reem with an excited expression. Reem shook his head sternly.

"No one will be in there at this time, it's-"

"So no one will mind if I peek, right?" Najiya said cheekily and opened the doors, immediately gasping in wonder at the beautiful room before him, admiring the plants and lovely architecture surrounding a tremendous oasis.

Reem hastily followed Najiya into the room as the young man looked around in awe. "Najiya, this place is off-limits unless given expressed permission from the Prince. We need to leave, right now. I still have to show you where you'll be living while you're employed here-"

"This place is beautiful!" Najiya exclaimed, turning to Reem with a bright smile. "What's it for?"

Reem heaved a hopeless sigh, and glanced around in moderate interest. "This is Prince Rim's private oasis. It doesn't get much use anymore. The servants still tend to the plants and keep the water clean, however."

" _Aah_ , do I count as a servant? I definitely wouldn't mind taking care of the plants in here, that wouldn't feel like work at all!" the blonde sighed happily, and Reem couldn't help but smile a little at the young man's enthusiasm.

"Officer Reem," came a voice from the doorway, and Reem snapped out of it and whirled around, his face locking into a very official expression. A guard stood, staring at the two of them in mild confusion; Reem cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose importantly.

"I'm busy showing the new servant to his duties here, what is it you want?" he demanded, and the guard immediately straightened in response to the tone of Reem's voice.

"We need you outside, sir. The people are getting rowdy, we need extra hands."

Reem nodded and dismissed the man, sighing and scratching the back of his head absently. "I'll be back," he said to the blonde, concerned over the idea of leaving Najiya to his own devices for longer than even a minute. "You stay right here until I return, understood?"

"Yep!" Najiya chimed, still looking around. His eyes suddenly caught sight of a puddle near the edge of the water, and then watery footsteps scattered in seemingly frantic circles. He tilted his head in thought, and then looked back at Reem, who was leaving the room in a hurry.

"Hey, Reem?"

Reem stopped with a sudden jerk as if Najiya's voice had him attached to a rope. "Y-yes? What is it?"

"You said that this room hasn't been used in a while, right?" Najiya asked curiously, and Reem nodded.

"That's right. Now excuse me a moment, and wait right there," he said, and marched off down the hall.

Najiya looked back to the mysterious puddles of water and approached them. He was careful not to slip on the water, but now that he was closer he saw that it was all over the place; it looked as if someone- or possibly multiple someones- had been in the water very recently. Perhaps servants skinny-dipped when no one else was around? Najiya giggled at the thought.

Hushed speaking suddenly caught Najiya's ear and he immediately fell silent. He looked up and around, certain he could hear someone close-by.

" _No, no no don't,_ _ **don't**_ _…!_ "

One of the plants across the room was shaking oddly, and Najiya was just about to aggressively blame spirits for the phenomenon when a man stepped out from behind a cluster of leaves.

"Najiya." Hafa said, his face conveying the smallest traces of surprise.

The blonde's mouth fell open and his pink eyes widened in realization. "H-Haru? Is that seriously you?!"

Makarim popped up behind Hafa, looking aghast that they had been revealed but equally as surprised that the two seemed to know each other. "He calls you Haru, too?" the taller man asked, but Hafa ignored him.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Hafa asked, but Najiya didn't answer; in no time at all he had crossed the room and quite literally jumped on Hafa, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You're here! Haruuu! You're alive, I can't believe it!" the young man exclaimed in joy, nuzzling the man excitedly.

Hafa wasn't entirely sure how to react to the human clinging to him in such a way, so he settled on holding his arms out awkwardly.

"Hang on, how do you know Haru?" Makarim asked in confusion, rubbing one of his temples. It was obvious by now that this individual wasn't exactly a threat to them, so he allowed himself to relax momentarily. It was also obvious that he wasn't going to get many straight answers from Hafa, so addressing the out-going blonde was most likely going to grant him more information.

Najiya finally released Hafa, his face flushed pink from all the excitement, and he beamed at Makarim. "I met him yesterday. A lot's happened since then, and somehow I kind of got a job here at the palace. But Haru, some nasty guards told me you were executed! How-" Najiya suddenly gasped, grabbing Hafa's shoulders firmly. "Is that why you're here? Did you break out of prison, and now you're on the run?!"

"Nothing quite like that," Makarim laughed. "But I guess the real story is equally as unbelievable. And strictly speaking, we're not supposed to _be_ here, so if you could show us the quickest way out, that would be incredibly helpful."

Najiya stared at Makarim for a long moment, and then a wide smile of recognition formed on his lips. "Hey, I know you! Makarim, son of Tahiyah, yeah? My family always used to buy your families pots and basins, they were the best!" he announced, and Makarim chuckled in embarrassment.

"Thank you… I think I've seen you around as well. But really, we should probably talk about all this later. We _really_ need to be going-"

"I don't want to go yet." Hafa said suddenly, flashing Makarim a defiant look. "I finally found the water, and I don't want to leave."

"He's still on about that, huh?" Najiya asked in a tone of wonderment. "So persistent!"

"Be reasonable!" Makarim pleaded, glancing nervously at the door, "I know you want to stay, but it just doesn't work that way! If we're caught here, you won't ever see the water again! We were lucky to even get this far without getting arrested. We have to go!"

"He's right," Najiya interjected, and grabbed Hafa's arm, pulling him towards the open doors. "Reem will be back any minute now, so you need to go before then."

Hafa was only resistant for a moment, but Makarim gave him an imploring expression, and he finally sighed in aggravation and allowed Najiya to lead him out of the room. He cast one last look back at the oasis before they rounded a corner and it was out of sight.

"There was a door back here somewhere that leads to the gardens. There hopefully shouldn't be anyone out there, since it's so crazy out in front." Najiya explained, finally releasing his hold on Hafa when he was sure the man wouldn't try and bolt.

The three men walked briskly down the hall, Najiya glancing down every hall and at every door they passed, trying to remember exactly where he'd seen the gardens. Hafa finally spoke again, the suddenness of his voice causing Makarim to nearly jump out of his skin.

"How did you end up here?" he asked Najiya curiously. It was all too coincidental for his taste.

"I was almost arrested for what happened yesterday, actually," Najiya said with a chuckle. He stopped walking when they reached a door, and Najiya gently opened it and peeked inside. A moment later he pulled his head out. "Wrong door," he said, and continued walking.

"Anyway, this guy named Reem got involved and let me off the hook. He's really nice, and he gave me a job here. I came mostly because I was hoping I'd see you at some point, and here you are! Strange, right?" he finished brightly, but Hafa didn't reply. Najiya's smile dissolved into a pout. "Don't be sad, Haru!" he said, and Hafa perked a brow at him. 'Sad' wasn't exactly the word he would have used, but he understood the assumption. "Since I work here now, I'll try and see if there's anything I can do-"

" _Halt_!"

Najiya very nearly physically jumped at the sudden commanding voice; Hafa merely turned around coolly to observe whomever had finally found them. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but perhaps he hadn't thought about it; for the first time since he had arrived in this city, he felt a cold jab of fear settle in his stomach.

A shining sword was perched just at Makarim's neck, the cool metal pressing against his tanned skin. Makarim wasn't moving a muscle, his expression stony but pale.

The officer stood just behind Makarim, brandishing two blades, the first at his jugular and the second of which pointed between the man's shoulder blades.

"Take one step," said Reem menacingly, "and this one dies."

.

.

.

He had never snuck out of the house before.

Quite honestly, he had never even entertained the idea of doing something so defiant and perilous; it was almost against his nature. But he couldn't bear to admit to anyone how afraid of the water he was, and the next time the other children invited him to go swimming with them, he wanted to accept.

Makarim looked back at the city which now seemed so small, guilt gripping his chest and making it hard to breathe but he continued on toward the seashore, resolving to finish what he had started. He would be back home before anyone even realized he was gone.

It was an ideal night for swimming. The moon shone brightly through the sparse clouds and promised a serene night with no fear of storms, and the water was calmer than Makarim had ever seen it.

As he approached the water, he made a point of first stopping in front of the idol of Manāt, a large stone monument erected for the goddess of fate, which sat majestically just near the edge of the water. He offered a respectful prayer in front of the idol, asking for a safe return. Somehow, asking a goddess for luck only proved to make him more nervous about what he was planning on attempting.

The night was chillier than he would have imagined, and as Makarim discarded his shirt, he shuddered and hugged his arms, letting out a delicate breath. He had come this far, he figured, so turning back now would only mean the whole endeavor was pointless. Holding his breath and biting down on his bottom lip, Makarim walked forward and allowed the water to brush past his ankles.

His heart panged with a wild fear, and Makarim yelped and jumped back.

"I can't do this, I _can't_ …" he whimpered, feeling embarrassed tears sting at the corners of his eyes. He stared out at the water, his breathing ragged and a sob perched in the back of his throat. After a moment of gathering himself and employing several calming breaths, Makarim frowned resolutely and decided to try again.

He stepped into the water once more, this time fighting the urge to jump away from it's embrace. He shut his eyes tightly, letting the cold water slide against his ankles and occasionally rise enough to brush over his calves. Makarim felt light-headed from the sensation, trying hard to focus on how _calm_ the water was, so gentle and unthreatening. The water couldn't hurt him. He wasn't going to swim deep enough for anything bad to happen. He was here to experience the water, and to get a feel for it, that was all.

_That was all._

This mantra was repeated for several minutes until Makarim finally felt brave enough to open his eyes. The ocean water was still barely below calf level, and nothing horrible had happened. Makarim focused now on relaxing himself, and as he took deep breaths in and out, he took another hesitant step into the water.

Another trembling breath, and he was submerged to his waist. As the water gently sloshed against his skin, Makarim valiantly fought his flight instinct and remained in the water, every muscle in his body rigid. He stood there for some time, repeating his mantra and convincing himself that everything was going to be okay. When he finally managed to loosen up, he looked around himself and realized how far he had come. Fear gave way to a strange sense of pride, and Makarim allowed a small smile to pull at his lips.

Slowly Makarim began moving, sliding his hands into the water and practicing the most basic arm movements, his feet firmly planted in the sand.

He felt more confident. The water couldn't hurt him. There was nothing to be afraid of after all.

Just as he felt he had successfully held his fears at bay, a foot slipped and everything went black.

Cold water rushed over his head, and in his surprise Makarim forgot to close his mouth, yelling out and feeling a cascade of bubbles escape his lips instead of sound. He flailed his arms desperately, but he felt as if he was being pulled deep into the ocean's depths. He had no sense of up or down anymore, and couldn't even tell how far from the surface he was. Was he being pulled? Amidst his panic he could swear he felt a tight grip on his ankle, pulling him down to his death.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to drown. Makarim jerked and swung his arms unhelpfully, his lungs taut and uncomfortable. The night was too dark and the water was too oppressive to be able to see anything. He was going to die in darkness. His father and his grandfather would always wonder what happened to him, and his infant siblings would grow up without a big brother. Makarim's lungs felt as if they could burst and as a reflex he opened his mouth and breathed in sharply, his airways burning in a way he never thought possible. Darkness prevailed. At least, he thought hopefully, he could be with his mother again.

Just as he felt himself losing consciousness, he felt the grip on his ankle disappear, and a new presence was with him, and it felt to be pulling him up towards the surface with super-human speed.

The next thing he could remember was a voice speaking to him from somewhere far away, and a mouth against his mouth, breathing into him and giving him life. His body felt numb and tingly, and when he finally came to, Makarim coughed and rolled onto his side, violently throwing up sea water. Hacking and shaking and crying, Makarim looked up to see who had saved his life; his vision was failing him but he could have sworn he saw a smoky figure kneeling next to him, a creature without a form staring at him with an intensity he couldn't explain.

When he blinked, the figure was gone. Makarim looked around for the apparition before dissolving into a coughing fit, struggling to sit up. He could hear panicked voices coming nearer from the direction of the city, and wondered only briefly how anyone could have possibly known where he was.

As Makarim gave into unconsciousness again, he knew two things for certain.

He was no longer afraid of the water.

And he would never forget those eyes, those blazing blue eyes filled with wisdom and innocence that shone like the ocean itself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reem gives Hafa a choice, Prince Rim deals with an uninvited guest, and Hafa and Makarim realize that there's more binding them together than coincidence.

"You are trespassing in the palace of Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din," Reem said sternly, keeping his blades steady and tilting the steel at Makarim's throat. "Explain yourselves before I paint the floor with this one's blood."

Hafa had never remembered feeling authentic _fear_ before, in the human sense of the word, but the idea of Makarim suffering in any way was causing him to feel a plethora of emotions he hadn't yet experienced during his regrettably lengthy time as a mortal.

"I'm here for the water. He has _nothing_ to do with it." Hafa said in a low voice, unsure of what else to say to stay the guard's blade. "If you hurt him, I'll never forgive you."

"Reem, _don't_!" Najiya cut in, bounding out from behind Hafa with his arms outstretched. "You can't! They haven't done anything wrong!"

"Najiya?" Despite years of training, the appearance of the blonde caused Reem to lower his swords, ruining his otherwise perfect calculations. As the cold steel left Makarim's throat, the man let out a shaky sigh of relief, and a second later Hafa had grabbed the taller man's arm and yanked him away from Reem, almost protectively.

"Stop right there," Reem re-asserted, raising his swords once again and angling them at the two trespassers. "I didn't say you could move, and I still don't know what's going on."

"Reem, it's okay!" Najiya bounced over to Reem and grabbed one of his arms, practically hugging it against his chest in earnest. "They're my friends! I told you about Haru, the other guards told me yesterday that they killed him, remember? But he's not dead, he's right here! So please don't hurt them, okay?"

Reem kept his weapons steady all the same. "Najiya, I understand, but it is my _job_ to deal with situations like these. If someone has broken into the palace, I can't simply turn a blind eye to that. What kind of man would I be if I did?"

Najiya's eyes were uncharacteristically fierce. "A _good_ man. You helped me earlier when you didn't need to, and I thought to myself, 'what a good man he is'! So I know you wouldn't arrest anyone if they haven't done anything wrong, right?" he said desperately, and Reem regarded the young man for a moment before issuing a sigh, defeated. He lowered one of his swords, sheathing it at his side.

"All right. _You_ , the one called Haru. You said something about coming here for the water. I want to know what you meant by that." Reem said, his voice still maintaining an air of authority, something he obviously couldn't assert when conversing with Najiya.

Hafa stared at Reem with a cool indifference, not really knowing how to explain in a way that wouldn't just raise more questions. In response to Hafa's prolonged silence, Makarim decided to speak for him.

"It's hard to explain," Makarim said with a nervous laugh, "but Haru here has a real love for the water. He's not from around here, so when he learned that there was water at the palace, he had to come see it for himself."

"I don't understand," Reem said accusingly, "has he come to steal it?"

" _No_!" Makarim and Najiya accidentally exclaimed in unison, and Makarim apologetically finished, "I mean… Haru's no thief, sir. I know it's strange, but he just came here to see the water. That's all, and now we were just leaving."

" _See_ the water?" Reem repeated, his suspicion fading, replaced with confusion, "Why are _you_ here, then?"

Makarim laughed. "I can honestly say I don't have an answer for you, there-"

"The water is unhappy," Hafa said suddenly, his eyes locked firmly on Reem's. "Tell me what happened to the water. Why is it here? How did it _get_ here? How did Rim come to rule this city?"

Reem stared at Hafa in mild surprise. There was something about this man that was different, he could tell that much, but he wasn't sure what that something was. If anyone else had tried telling him that water could feel an emotion like unhappiness Reem would have thought them mad, but this man spoke of the water with such bold resolution that he couldn't help but take him seriously.

Lowering his other sword, Reem frowned. "Those are strange questions," the officer said, glancing around them carefully, "but I suppose they're not entirely unfounded. I'm afraid I don't have much information for you, however. The details of Prince Rim's reign are widely speculated on, but it's a rather taboo subject. Not many people question it."

"I told you before," Makarim said gently to Hafa, "no one around here really remembers when he got here, or how long he's been ruling. There are more questions than answers."

Najiya nodded in agreement.

Hafa was silent, his brain working furiously to try and make sense of it all. He had theories for how all of this could have happened, but without talking to Rim, he couldn't be sure of anything. Reem cleared his throat and adjusted his eye glasses.

"There is something more, I suppose," he offered hesitantly, and all eyes moved to him, making him feel rather put on the spot. "Though I'm not sure if it will be of any help to you. When I was a child, I wrote something down that I can't make much sense of. I wrote about the day that this palace appeared. I described it as 'rising from the sands', and as soon as it appeared, everyone apparently forgot about the event, myself included. I can't even remember writing it in the first place… So I can't hold much stock in such nonsensical words."

This seemed to peak Hafa's interest. "How long ago was that?" he half-demanded.

Reem pressed a knuckle to his chin. "It would have been six years ago, I believe."

Hafa looked down, fixing his gaze on the floor. _Six years_. That must have been exactly how long he had been wandering the desert. He wasn't sure if knowing the exact amount of time was a comfort or a let down.

The palace officer sighed and shook his head. "I'm not even sure why I'm telling you any of this. I've never told anyone what I had written that day-"

" _Ahw_ , Reem, we're the _first_?" Najiya interjected happily, and Reem immediately flushed and glared at Najiya with obvious embarrassment.

"Don't say ridiculous things like that," Reem reprimanded, and Makarim couldn't stifle a chuckle.

Hafa half-listened to the banter, his mind whirling with thoughts. None of this made any sense. He couldn't even start to imagine how Rim had come to gain so much power. Still, it was becoming more and more clear that he was dealing with much more than a mortal body would be able to combat.

"I need to speak to Rim." Hafa said plainly, cutting through the back-and-forth between the other men like a knife. The uneasy silence that followed his request hung thick in the air, but Hafa seemed oblivious to it. Reem stared at Hafa with what appeared to be pity.

"No one speaks to the Prince anymore," Reem replied, in a regretful tone. "I can't just _take you to him_ -"

"That's what everyone keeps telling me. But I need answers from him, and I don't care about the risks."

Reem's lips formed a thin line as he tried to most efficiently process the ridiculous request. He was at a loss for how to dissuade the man further, as it appeared that not even the idea of imprisonment gave way to any sort of concern.

"What is your relationship with Prince Rim?" Reem asked, surprising all but Hafa, who matched his unwavering gaze with a stony coolness that nearly answered Reem's question all on its own. "You seem to know things that the rest of us don't. Did you know him before all of… This?"

Hafa looked away, which Makarim instantly recognized as something Hafa automatically did in response to unnecessary prodding.

"What does it matter?" the marid spat.

"It matters. If you know something that could help us, or help this city, then it matters quite a lot." Reem replied resolutely.

"I don't care about any of that. I just want the water back where it belongs."

Reem sighed deeply, amazed at the amount of strange people one could meet in such a short span of time.

"All right, then listen. I could take you to the Prince right now, but I can _promise_ that he wouldn't speak more than two words to you before he had you carted off to the prisons, or killed, _regardless_ of your previous relationship to him. Not to mention, I would be held responsible for bringing you to him in the first place and breaking _every rule_ he has about such things. I cannot allow any of that." A breath. Reem's eyes fell closed, as if what he was about to say was going to pain him. "However… There's another option."

Hafa looked at Reem almost as if the man had suddenly produced a basin of water. His eyes were filled with a curious intensity, but still he said nothing.

"In six days, Prince Rim will be holding a party. Dozens of important people will attend, and some of us are encouraged to help provide ample entertainment. At these sorts of functions, the Prince will sometimes choose certain men or women he _prefers_ and they may be allowed to be his for the evening."

Makarim blanched, waving a hand in front of himself as if to persuade the offensive idea elsewhere. "Wha- Wait, like _prostitution_? Are you suggesting that Haru prostitutes himself in order to talk to the Prince?!"

"I never said that!" Reem rebutted sternly, feeling his ears burning in embarrassment. He hated discussing things of this nature, even if it was necessary. He was a firm believer that sexual matters be dealt with strictly in private.

"There isn't any guarantee that Prince Rim will choose _anyone_ for the night. He has concubines, after all. But at the very least, it would gain you an invite to the party. Wine does tend to loosen the tongue, I suppose, and there will be plenty of wine to go around. Even if he doesn't cast you a second glance, it still may be your _best chance_ of speaking with him."

"I'll do it. Tell me what I have to do." Hafa said unhesitatingly, causing both Makarim and Najiya to make identical noises of incredulous disbelief, which were instantly and aggressively shhh-ed by Reem.

" _Haru_!" Makarim exclaimed in more of a hushed voice, unsure if Hafa truly understood what he was agreeing to, or if he even cared. "Shouldn't you think something like this through?"

"Yeah, Haru, that's a little rash, right?" Najiya offered in concern.

Hafa stared solely at Reem, awaiting an answer. Reem only delayed for a moment longer, marveling at the determination of the man in front of him. He was quite sure he had never met anyone like him before.

"If you're serious about this, then I'll write up an issue of invitation. All you need to do is show up. The guests will be arriving in the evening, but I'll want you here sooner, so that we can go over some etiquette before it all starts. _Six days_ from now. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Hafa said resolutely. Off to the side, Makarim looked almost as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent.

The palace officer looked around, and then strode forward, walking past the small group. "Come on, then. You can't stay any longer, and the best way out is this way," he said, and Hafa obediently followed, Makarim and Najiya bringing up the rear and still feeling rather unsure about everything that had transpired.

.

.

.

The palace felt different somehow. Now that she was aware of the cryptic chamber beneath her feet holding a cursed object, she felt like nothing around her was real. It was only moments after she had left the chamber and Siraj al Din's company, and already she was questioning the validity of everything she'd experienced since becoming a Princess.

Ghazi's footsteps rang throughout the corridor, failing to drown out her troubled thoughts. Her eyes concentrated on the ground and her hand on the amulet, she rubbed her thumb along the uneven carved surface distractedly. She didn't hear the voices up ahead, nor did she notice the small group of people coming her way until she had nearly run into the man leading the group.

Officer Reem stopped himself in time, seemingly having been distracted himself with the company he seemed to be escorting. As he realized his blunder, the officer straightened and bowed respectfully to her. Ghazi's brain was still catching up with the most recent events, and she didn't even manage much of a reaction to the group's sudden appearance.

"I apologize, Princess Ghazi! Excuse my hurry…"

"It's fine, don't worry… I was distracted as well," Ghazi answered politely, not even bothering to enforce the preferred use of her name.

The Princess stepped out of the way before the officer could continue his apology, not feeling particularly chatty. The officer bowed again and hastily continued on his way. Ghazi wouldn't have given the company another look if she hadn't felt eyes on her, watching her with an intensity that she could almost _feel_ probing into her soul.

She turned just in time to see a raven-haired man staring at her with something like recognition; their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, and Ghazi gripped her amulet so hard the sides dug painfully into her palm. His blue irises were so distinct and so familiar, Ghazi was sure she'd seen them before. In a second it was over, and all four of the men were around the corner and out of sight.

.

.

.

Hafa and Makarim were ushered out a back door, emptying them into an unoccupied garden far away from prying eyes and patrolling guards. Reem remained firmly in the doorway, but Najiya stepped out and grabbed Hafa's hands, gripping them tightly.

"Hey, Haru, think everything over, okay? And stay out of trouble, you really seem to attract it everywhere you go, you know…"

"Nn,"

Najiya smiled, releasing him and walking back inside. Reem stared at Hafa evenly, his arms crossed.

"Six days. Be here. I'll get you in, but that's all I can do for you." he said seriously, and Hafa nodded in understanding.

"I've got it."

Reem offered a respectful nod, and Najiya waved the two of them off just before the door was firmly shut. It was quiet, save for the sounds of people talking and moving some distance away; finally, Makarim broke the awkward silence with a chuckle.

"Well… All of that could have gone a lot worse." he admitted, stretching his arms upward with a massive sigh. "Still, I can't believe you agreed to something like tha- _Hey_ , Haru, where are you going now?" Hafa was leaving the garden in silence, but he stopped at Makarim's voice and turned toward him.

"I'm going to find a place to wait until I need to come back," he answered, as if it couldn't possibly be more normal. Makarim smiled sadly and shook his head.

"You really have such little faith in me," he mock-scolded, and Hafa found himself feeling oddly guilty although he couldn't place why. "You can't be expected to live on the streets for _six whole days_. Do you even have a coin to your name?"

Hafa looked away abashedly, but Makarim only smiled warmly at the signature defensive action. "You can stay with me until then, if you'd like," the man said, and Hafa managed to meet his eyes again, his expression softened and a faint tint on his cheeks.

"No. You've already done too much for me-"

"You can help around the shop if that makes you feel any better. Now come on, I need to buy us some water before we head home." Makarim laughed, turning on his heel and motioning for Hafa to follow, which Hafa did without any further prompting.

.

.

.

He had felt it. Something was resonating through the palace like a tremor, and Rim could almost taste it in the air.

He disliked the feelings it evoked in him.

It was like unpacking your childhood clothing, only to realize that you can no longer fit into them because of how much you've grown and changed. It brought a feeling of nostalgia, but also a certain bitterness, a resentment. It was the resentment on which he was focused.

Rim paced his private quarters, eager for the feeling to leave. He wasn't too surprised at his own uneasiness, considering what was going on just outside the palace gates. At this time every week, he closed himself in his quarters, trying to forget the fact that water was being sold, going to the greedy hands of the hapless citizens that lived under him.

 _His_ water.

More often than not, Rim had the wild urge to forbid any water from leaving the palace, damn the consequences. But each and every time, a small, almost childlike wave of guilt would overcome him and he would relent to it.

The thought of water had pulled Rim unconsciously to one of the basins of water that was placed strategically around his room. He placed a hand in the cool liquid and breathed a sigh. Soon the feeling would be gone. The city-dwellers would go back to their dirty homes, and Rim would be left in peace.

" _You did_ _ **nothing**_ _._ "

Rim started, and the basin of water slid off of the ornate table and crashed to the floor. Water sloshed over Rim's feet and seeped into the rug. The Prince brought a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, the hair on the back of his neck standing rigid.

"Fuck off," Rim snarled, albeit weakly.

" _There was a presence. It moved through the palace freely, it upset the balance. And you did nothing._ "

The noise that could be conceived as a voice had a smoky quality to it, almost like wind, but it was whispering and forcing a language into the sound. Rim knew the voice well. He was never sure when he had began to communicate with it. He sometimes felt as if it had always been there.

"Maybe you should have taken care of it, then. I didn't feel any presence." the Prince lied.

" _I was not able to_."

"Then maybe you're worthless." Rim spat coldly. His legs always developed a lead-like quality when the _thing_ was nearby, but finally Rim willed himself to move and trudged to his bed. He sat himself down on the edge, holding his head in his hand. "Leave me alone."

" _I was unable to see what it was_." The voice continued, as if Rim had not spoken. " _It repelled me_."

"You're getting old," came Rim's suggestion. The silence that followed was threatening. Despite himself, Rim felt a cold shiver stab the base of his spine. "What do you want me to _do_?" he asked the empty room, with decidedly less venom in his tone.

More silence. The absence of the voice was not a comfort, although Rim desperately wished it was. Whenever he experienced this oppressive silence, he nearly felt like a small child again, scared of the world, cold and shaking. He already knew what it wanted, what it _always_ wanted, what the last weathered wall in Rim's mind wouldn't allow.

That barrier was breaking, little by little, and he knew there would come the day that the fortress of his mind would fail him.

The voice that came was terrible and sweet. " _I want you to trust me_."

.

.

.

Chores were horrible.

Hafa had aimlessly roamed the desert for years, and somehow he would rather be back on the dunes than sweep the floor of the pottery shop. It wasn't as if the work was exceptionally hard, or that Makarim was pushing him too much, it was quite the opposite. All of it was almost too simplistic. Too _human_.

For such a long time, curses and death had been the driving force in his life, keeping him in a constant cycle of unrest. And now here he was, sweeping floors and eating lunches and laying on the roof of Makarim's shop when there was nothing left to be done. His thoughts were scattered, they were troubled, and there was not enough to keep him occupied. These human matters were embarrassingly trivial.

He thought of the water at the palace. He tried to keep his memory of it fresh, and when he closed his eyes, he would try and remember the sensation. But it was no more real than the mirages he used to see on the sands. And then Makarim would call for him when dinner was ready, and Hafa would recall the mistake he'd made in the water. He would remember pressing his mouth against Makarim's, the feeling and warmth of the man's body against his, and his lower half would become so uncomfortable that he would almost consider skipping dinner altogether if only there wasn't the promise of fresh water to drink.

It wasn't as if Hafa hated being where he was. He was grateful for Makarim's help, and the shop owner wasn't at all unpleasant to be around.

Over the last few days, the two of them had developed a comfortable balance. Makarim never asked Hafa what he was thinking when he seemed far away, he never prodded him with questions or challenged his decision to return to the palace. Simply put, he didn't impose himself on Hafa at all. Although this was all Hafa could ask for, and what he knew he wanted, it was somehow terribly off-putting.

If silence was what Hafa needed, Makarim would see to it without question. It almost embarrassed Hafa to be so doted upon, but it was so impossible for him to relay how he felt that he merely allowed it to happen. He badly wanted a distraction that _wasn't_ the endearing way Makarim tried to hold back his laughter when Hafa made honest mistakes, or the way he apologized whenever one of those laughs slipped out.

Although he had tried hard not to, Hafa had grown to like Makarim's siblings, who were around the shop more often than not. They often joined them for dinner, their banter usually causing the meal to go on for much longer than originally planned, but Hafa didn't mind. They asked him lots of questions he couldn't answer, such things as;

"Where do you come from?"

"Hey, how long are you living here with big brother?"

"Oooh, are you going to live here _forever_? You should live here forever, Haru!"

Makarim would apologize with his eyes and a smile, but Hafa didn't mind terribly. He was getting rather good at redirecting their questions, and soon the topic of conversation had moved to something completely ridiculous. Children were always so easy to manipulate, although it was not something Hafa liked to do with any maliciousness.

It was after one such dinner that Makarim had said something to Hafa as they cleared the table.

"You're only staying here for two more days, huh, Haru?"

Hafa stacked his plate on top of another and glanced at Makarim's back. He was glad that Makarim was not looking at him, because he had no idea how to respond. It had barely been a question, and Hafa vaguely wondered if Makarim even wanted an answer. There was a sadness in his voice, and almost as quickly as Hafa noticed it, it had gone and the moment was over. It left a bitter taste in their mouths, but Makarim was suddenly talking about something funny the twins said during dinner with that smile on his face, and Hafa focused on clearing the table and forgetting that terrible question.

In the loft above the store, accessible by a ladder, was Makarim's sleeping quarters. It was a modest space with a comfortable bed, a small table and two chairs. The table and chairs had been moved aside to accommodate a second make-shift bed consisting of several heavy wool blankets and a comfortable layer of hay. During the first night, Makarim had insisted that Hafa use his bed while he stayed over, but Hafa had outright refused and stubbornly slept on the guest bed, despite Makarim's many attempts.

That was how it had stayed since then.

Night was always a quiet time, more out of awkwardness than necessity, and Hafa had begun to memorize the way Makarim's breathing would slow and even out when he actually managed to fall asleep. Hafa didn't sleep much, and so he was incredibly aware of how long Makarim would feign sleep before relenting to it, as if there were things the man wanted to say that were floating around in the darkness that he was too timid to catch and relay.

In the end he would sleep, and Hafa would stay up for a time longer, listening to the sound of Makarim's steady breathing.

The fifth night came quickly.

They had spoken very briefly while cleaning the store room early in the day about what time Hafa was to leave for the palace the next morning, but that was all. Makarim had been less and less talkative as the day had worn on, and Hafa had to wonder if he was imagining the tension that hung thick in the room like wet spider-webs as the two of them settled into their beds for the night.

"Good night, Haru."

Hafa shifted uncomfortably under his blankets, feeling pressured to respond with something other than a generic sound.

 _Thank you for everything_.

No, that didn't seem right to say. It almost sounded like a farewell, a statement so final that Hafa would be obligated to never see Makarim ever again, regardless of what transpired at the palace.

Then again, _was_ there any reason to see Makarim after this? Whether he lived or died at the palace, he would get to see the water again. He might even get the answers he'd been hoping for. Perhaps, by some miracle, he might even reclaim his lost form and shed this conflicted mortal body permanently. And what would Makarim be to him then? What was he to him _now_ , for that matter?

Hafa hummed a response, his usual reply when Makarim bid him goodnight, and turned away from Makarim's bed, shoving a shoulder into his pillows and pulling the covers up as much as he could manage, despite the night being warmer than usual.

Although he didn't usually find sleep easily, he hoped sleep would come for him swiftly tonight, so that he wouldn't have to lie here and think about so many strange things. He tried to focus on the water, on Rim, on the palace, on his torturous journey potentially coming to an end.

He focused so hard, he managed to slip away into a dreamless state long before Makarim's breathing had become even and calm.

.

.

.

Something stirred, and Hafa's eyes immediately snapped open. He didn't move a muscle, but something was moving downstairs, and he heard the door of the shop gently open, and then close with a soft grinding sound that was being painstakingly muffled.

After several moments of piercing silence, Hafa sat up. He could no longer hear Makarim's breathing, and although he had lived his entire existence never having to listen to someone breathing near him as he slept, the absence of that sound was oddly discording.

He turned to Makarim's bed to find it empty. _When_ had Makarim slipped past him? Hafa was in no way a sound sleeper, and the floorboards up here creaked badly.

Rubbing a hand through his hair, Hafa rose from his bed, wool blankets slipping off of him and crumpling at his feet. He walked to the singular window that was open and allowing moonlight to spill generously over Makarim's vacant bed, glancing out at the city. The unmistakable broad-shouldered form of Makarim was walking toward the east exit of the city - he had even managed to change his _clothes_ without waking Hafa up? - and as Hafa watched on, he finally disappeared behind the city wall, heading towards the endless sands.

Something hot and surging crept into Hafa's chest, but he sternly ignored it. There was a burning curiosity, also, about where in the world Makarim could have been going so late at night, and why he would leave the city, but Hafa was determined not to bother himself with such questions. The lives of mortals were really not his concern, and although he certainly _liked_ Makarim, he was certain that the man's personal affairs were none of his business. With this thought, Hafa walked back to his bed and assumed the sleeping position.

No matter how many times he closed his eyes, they managed to pop open again, and Hafa found himself staring blankly into darkness, every passing minute of echoing silence making him more and more aware of his own concerns. Although he wasn't very good at keeping time, he estimated that forty-seven restless minutes had gone by before he had finally given in and got out of bed, dressed himself, and had left the pottery shop.

Hafa patted his camel on the nose before retracing Makarim's steps and heading to the east exit.

_There's no point in doing this. What that guy does is his business, and it's too much effort to go following him around in the dead of night. I should just leave now, head to the palace, and camp outside until morning._

Still he walked. As if to spite him, thoughts began swirling around his mind, completely unprovoked but alluringly colorful; Waking up in Makarim's shop, seeing him in the alley, running with him through the palace. That moment, that _strange_ but _wonderful_ moment in the oasis. The jolt of wild fear that had tore through him when he saw that sword pressed to Makarim's throat.

The question after dinner that hadn't expected a response.

Hafa had long left the city. His stomach fluttered with unease, as he still wasn't entirely sure why his curse had lifted for him to find the city in the first place, and part of him wondered if he would wind up stuck out here on these familiar sands once again.

But still he continued, because he knew exactly where Makarim had gone. He hadn't wanted to think about it, or acknowledge why Makarim took so long to fall asleep every night. He didn't want to talk about it, not really, mostly out of fear that he was wrong and Makarim _didn't_ remember, after all.

He stopped walking. Makarim was sitting, hugging his knees, just at the edge of a massive discoloration of sand, that spread out as far as one could see. Not many would notice such a minute difference in color and consistency, but Hafa knew that area well, and his memory held decades upon decades worth of memories of this particular area, before he had been cursed.

He came closer, and stopped when Makarim turned his head, eyebrows turned up in surprise.

"Haru…? What are you- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." he said, flustered.

 _Then why did you bother leaving?_ Hafa wanted to say, and it must have shown on his face, because Makarim's expression softened.

"I'm sorry," Makarim repeated.

"Why do you call me that." Hafa said evenly, not exactly a question, lacking any sort of accusatory tone.

Makarim's eyebrows raised again. The man contemplated for a time, before turning back to stare out at the dark sand once again, resting his chin on his forearms.

"I don't know," he finally answered, laughing in that apologetic way. Another silence followed before, "Calling you something like that… It makes everything seem less _real_ somehow."

Hafa stood, never having felt more conflicted in his life, wanting in equal parts to walk away and also to come a bit closer. He chose to stand rooted to the spot instead, unsure of what else to say.

It was cold out tonight. In the city it was still so warm, the unforgiving heat from the daylight still coursing through the stone buildings and streets, all so suffocatingly close together to maintain that warmth until the sun rose again. Out here on the sands, however, the night was always as cold as it was meant to be. Hafa could barely feel it, he had grown so numb to it all, but he could see Makarim's shoulders twitching occasionally, and the silence was finally broken when Makarim tried and failed to stifle a sneeze.

"We should go back." Hafa suggested, and he was momentarily stunned at his own boldness.

Makarim must have been as well, because he turned to Hafa with an almost stricken expression that quickly melted into a smile.

"You're right." he said, although he made no attempt to move. "I'll only be a little while longer, but you should head back. Reem wants you there bright and early, right?"

Hafa felt deflated by this, but he couldn't place why. It almost felt like Makarim was trying to get him to go away, and although he knew that wasn't the case, he still felt oddly wounded.

"Why are you out here?" This time, Hafa's tone carried a note of irritation. Makarim seemed to accept it easily enough, although Hafa was aware that the other man's facade was weakening.

"I like it here," Makarim replied, sighing. "I think there used to be water here, some years ago. No, I'm _sure_ there was. A massive amount of water, dark and terrifying and wonderful."

Makarim turned, a cool breeze rustling the fringe over his forehead. "Why did you… _kiss_ me, at the palace?" His voice was soft and broken. Hafa was relieved that the question was finally asked, but hated that he was expected to answer.

"I'm sorry," Makarim apologized hastily, having no doubt seen the discomfort on Hafa's face, "I shouldn't have said anything-"

"I don't know," Hafa admitted, stubbornly ignoring Makarim's attempt to cease the conversation. He took a couple of tentative steps forward.

"I was so happy, being with the water again. I felt something change in me, and I acted on it. I'm not used to having to consider others."

Makarim seemed almost disappointed by that answer, but he mutely nodded and let his eyes trail back to where the great oasis once sat. He was surprised when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Hafa sitting next to him, mere inches of sand between them. Hafa was avoiding Makarim's eyes at all costs, his gaze fixed instead on the horizon.

"I felt drawn to you," Hafa didn't have to see Makarim's face to know that the man had just turned a rather brilliant shade of pink. "I can't explain it. I felt drawn to you like I'm drawn to the water."

He hadn't meant for it to sound so poetic, but he was confident that Makarim understood the blunt matter in which he conveyed his thoughts. Still, the words bit him as they left his mouth.

"I'm sorry..." Hafa added, and to his embarrassment, he heard Makarim stifle a surprised intake of breath. "...if I troubled you in any way. You've done nothing but help me, and still I-" he trailed off, not used to fumbling over his words. He fell silent, and Makarim swept in to fill the silence, which Hafa was incredibly grateful for.

"No, you don't have to apologize… It didn't _trouble_ me exactly, it's just that-" Makarim paused, a more thoughtful pause than Hafa's. "I was confused," he admitted softly, followed by a gentle laugh. "I didn't… _dis_ like it…" he continued, and Hafa could feel a strange heat creep up into his lower jaw. "But with everything that's happened… I mean, is it... _alright..._ if I ask a couple of questions?"

Hafa only considered the request for a few short seconds. "That seems fair."

Makarim sighed from deep within his chest. "Okay," he started, sounding relieved to have finally gained permission, even if he never really needed permission in the first place, "I guess I'm curious about you and Prince Rim. Feel free to correct me, but… It seems like he has something to do with your curse, right? Is that why you want to talk to him so badly?"

It felt strange, to be talking to someone about this after so many years; even though he trusted Makarim, Hafa didn't feel the need to do more than answer the questions as simply as he could. Details didn't seem important.

"Yes," Hafa said, leaning back, his palms digging into the cool sand. He was starting to feel the chill, only slightly, across his bare stomach. "I don't know if he can change what's happened, but I have nothing else to go on."

"You knew him before all of this, then, right? Is he a djinn, too?"

"No. He's human. Or at least, he _was_ when I knew him. I'm not sure what's changed, but anything is possible."

Makarim's brow furrowed in thought. "Reem mentioned the palace 'rising' from the sands. I wonder how he could have done that, if he isn't a djinn himself."

"I don't think he did anything." Hafa said, eyes still fixed on some far-off point in the distance. Makarim craned his neck, silently asking for elaboration. "Something had to help him with all of this. I felt it when we were at the palace. There was something there."

"You _felt_ it?"

"Mortal bodies aren't _completely_ useless," Hafa pointed out, and Makarim responded with a mildly offended pout which went completely ignored by the marid, "it isn't like it used to be, but I can still sense magick if it's prevalent enough. Plenty of humans have similar abilities. You call them clairvoyants."

Makarim kneaded his chin with a knuckle. "So _something_ helped Rim achieve power, presumably gifted him a palace and control over all of the water in the area… For _what_ , exactly?"

"I don't know. That's what I want to find out." Hafa said resolutely.

Makarim averted his gaze. "And… Your curse. Is this _other being_ responsible for that, too?" he asked, his voice lowering in volume.

Hafa's head turned in that familiar way, and Makarim instantly felt guilty for having asked.

"No." Hafa answered, and then said no more for some time.

The two men sat there, Makarim hugging his knees, Hafa having laid down on the sand, arms spread, gazing at the endless heavens. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he felt compelled, for the first time in his life, to break the silence.

"You're worried about me going to the palace," Hafa said, and Makarim nearly jumped, so startled was he that Hafa had spoken with little to no provocation. Makarim laughed awkwardly.

"Well… Yeah," he replied. "Did your _feelings_ tell you that?" His tone was amused.

"No," Hafa couldn't ignore the tug at the corner of his mouth, "It's obvious."

Makarim sighed. "I _am_ worried. I can't help it… You're taking a big risk, and it makes me nervous."

"I can't die," Hafa pointed out, closing his eyes to blot out the stars for a moment, "and if I get thrown in prison or something, I'll just refuse water until I die and they throw out my body."

The ease in which Hafa discussed his own death sent shivers up Makarim's spine.

" _You_ , refusing water?" Makarim chuckled.

"Being in a cage is worse than wandering the desert for _years_. I would rather get out quickly and find water some other way," Hafa declared.

"As weird as this sounds, that's not really what I'm worried about." Makarim continued with a sigh.

This gained Hafa's attention, and he opened his eyes, struggling to stare at Makarim's back from his position. "Then what?"

Makarim sighed again, burying his head in his arms. "Reem is going to present you as a… As a _partner_ for the evening, Haru. You know what that means, right?"

"A concubine," Hafa said, and Makarim nearly groaned at how easily Hafa said the word, "I know what it means." he added hotly.

"And you're… _Okay_ with that?" Makarim asked timidly.

All at once Hafa felt ridiculous for not realizing where Makarim had been going with this sooner.

"You think I'm planning on sleeping with Rim?" Hafa asked, the thought of it sounding unpleasant to his own ear.

Makarim groaned excruciatingly and pressed his forehead hard into his arms. "Haruu _uuu_ …"

"Is that it?" His tone was not accusatory, and he was blatantly ignoring Makarim's embarrassment level, which had reached critical levels. Makarim finally lifted his head, face flushed, worrying his bottom lip. He offered a weak nod.

Hafa had never thought of such a thing before. Yes, he knew what was intended for him tomorrow, but he never planned on actually having to _follow through_ with anything. He didn't even expect Rim to look at him twice. He was prepared to hide away somewhere in the palace and seek Rim out when he was unattended, if he had to. Whatever it took to get answers. Sexual obligations had never occurred to him.

Hafa sat up, staring at Makarim with such a fierce expression that the other man might have assumed he was angry, if he hadn't known better.

"I don't want to do that sort of thing with him." Hafa said plainly, as if it was obvious.

"O-Oh? I'm sorry, Haru, I didn't mean to imply… I don't know what kind of… _relationship…_ you two had before all of this, so I just…"

Hafa's expression relaxed. "I know," he said, "You can't know unless I tell you." His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and Makarim fell silent, watching him curiously.

Hafa sighed. "I met Rim and his younger sister when they were very young. Their village, far to the south of here, had been destroyed. Rim's parents had been killed, along with so many others. Not many escaped the massacre as the city burned, but I was there, I watched it happen. I saw the two children escape. It isn't in our nature to involve ourselves with mortals, but I felt a sadness for them. I can't explain it, really."

Makarim listened intently, worried that if he said anything, Hafa may stop talking altogether.

"I took pity on them eventually. In disguise, I helped them. I found them food, I led them to water, and I continued to help them from afar. I even used magick to nudge the local villagers in their direction, and they were offered a place to stay in the village. Rim is clever, though… He figured out what was going on, and he spent several nights thanking me, and asking for me to show myself. I did, in the end. We became close. Our kind doesn't have a word for it, but mortals call it _friendship_ , I suppose."

"That was incredibly kind of you," Makarim offered, unable to stop himself. "My grandfather used to tell me so many tales of djinns. He once told me, 'Mako, djinns don't think like mortals. They aren't capable of remorse, or kindness. They deceive, and you can't trust them'. I never believed that, you know, but… Well, _obviously_ he was wrong, there."

Hafa laughed through his nose sharply. "We say the same thing of humans."

"Well I happen to think that's largely _true_ of humans," Makarim said with an apologetic smile.

"You're not like that," Hafa countered.

The way the men's eyes met caused the bottom of Hafa's stomach to tighten and promptly ice over, and he averted his gaze, hearing Makarim issue a soft laugh as he did so.

Hafa was silent for several moments, finished with his story, and it was almost as if a tension had been lifted that he hadn't even realized was there. Finally, Makarim spoke.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"Hn."

"Why did you save my life, back then?"

For the briefest of moments, Hafa felt as if his entire body had turned to stone. He chanced glancing at Makarim, and the man was staring back at him, his eyes bright and searching. Hafa was relieved, in the oddest way, but also slightly frightened that something was about to change between the two of them. He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not, but he remembered the moment they had shared in the oasis, and realized it probably already had.

"How did you know it was me?"

Makarim chuckled. "I could never forget those eyes. Not in a hundred years."

"Is that why you came all the way out here? Because this is where we met?" Hafa asked.

The brunette looked out at where the large body of water used to lay, sighing contentedly. "I know it's strange… People don't _usually_ like to return to the places where they've almost died. But it's the only connection I felt I had to you. Everyone else forgot the water was ever here, but I remembered. And it was because of you."

Hafa felt the familiar warmth return to his face, and the pit of his stomach.

Makarim turned back to him. "You didn't answer my question, though. I've been wondering about it for years… Why did you save me?"

Hafa returned his look, positive that if he looked away, he would lose his nerve. He lifted a sand-dusted hand and touched Makarim's face, gently. Makarim let out a shallow breath at the contact, looking almost like he could cry, and Hafa leaned forward, pressing his cooled lips against Makarim's.

The kiss was so incredibly different from the first, which was heated and spontaneous and frenzied; this was sweet and almost sad, and their lips were so cold Makarim could barely _feel_ it at all, but it was there, and it was what he needed. Hand trembling from the cold and from the emotions flooding out of his chest, Makarim touched Hafa's chest, and it felt so warm and so real, it was hard to remember how cold everything else was.

Hafa's lips parted invitingly, and Makarim slid his tongue just past Hafa's front teeth into the warmth of the marid's mouth. Hafa responded in turn, wet tongues gently rolling against each other until Hafa closed his lips, planting a firm kiss and a nip on Makarim's bottom lip, then the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, and lastly to his forehead.

"I told you already," Hafa breathed, lowering his face to lock eyes with Makarim's, who had tears brimming just at the edge of his bottom lashes, "I feel drawn to you. It's always been that way."

Makarim laughed, burying his face in the curve of Hafa's shoulder and stifling a sob.

All at once, Hafa felt like a fool. He had been so focused on the water, on Rim, that he hadn't even realized Makarim's presence. For years he wandered the desert, cursed and alone, and in all that time, he had tried everything he could think of to escape his fate and was met with failure at every turn. Yet somehow, for no discernible reason, Makarim had found him. He had done the impossible, and Hafa hadn't truly appreciated it until now.

There were more questions to be answered than whatever awaited him at the palace. He wanted to know what bound him to this other being, this kind-hearted human. He wanted to know why he felt the way he felt.

"Tell me you're coming back," Makarim's voice was muffled in the cloth of Hafa's keffiyeh that hung loosely around his neck. "Just say it. Please."

Hafa honestly didn't know if he was coming back. And if he did come back, he wasn't sure he would be the same. He knew this, and he was certain that Makarim knew it as well. The man didn't want a truthful answer, he wanted reassurance. Hafa understood this mortal sentiment so well that it frightened him.

"I'm coming back." Hafa said, winding his arms around Makarim's shoulders and gently kissing his hair. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I won't lie, I suffered a pretty incredible writers block and had to take a break from writing. I'm back now though, and it's my goal to have the next chapter posted in less than two weeks. Wish me luck!  
> Next chapter will be the party and some fluffy Reigisa~ hu hu hu


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Najiya has boundary issues, Hafa realizes he has no idea how old he is, and Aini is all-around having a pretty rough time.

The crowd surrounding the scene were hopelessly divided. From most came a resounding plea for mercy on the child's behalf, but some were furiously resolute that a _thief_ was a _thief_ , no matter how young and unfortunate.

Aini looked around at the noisy crowd with wide eyes shining with frightened tears. The soldiers on either side of him had a firm hold of his arms and were discussing what was to be done with him; they had finally agreed on taking him to the prisons when there was a hush over the crowd, and a loud voice announced that the Prince was among their company.

Hearing this, the guards immediately straightened, pulling Aini forcefully along with them. One of the soldiers roughly grabbed the back of the boy's head and forced it down in a respectful bow.

"What's with the crowd? Has something happened?" The voice was young and _so very_ familiar, and Aini blinked away tears, straining to listen as several sets of footsteps came nearer.

"It's nothing, Prince Rim," answered one of the soldiers, and Aini couldn't stifle a gasp, his head jerking against the hand that still had a firm hold. "We've just caught ourselves a little thief. Says he isn't from around here. We are preparing to arrest him."

"He looks like nothing more than a child, to me," The Prince said, and Aini could see a pair of golden shoes stop directly in front of him. All at once, Aini could see a change in the composure of the young man who stood before him; he couldn't see it so much as _sense_ it, and he was sure he even heard the Prince's breath shallow.

"Release him," came the Prince's voice, low and threatening, and the soldiers exchanged a look.

"Your highness-"

"I said, release him! I wish to look at him,"

The soldiers did as they were told. Aini stumbled forward, face to face with the Prince, with _Rim_ , and it _looked_ like Rim down to the last detail, so much like him that Aini nearly dissolved into happy tears right then and there.

Rim, however, wore a discernable expression; he almost looked irritated, and Aini remained silent, searching Rim's eyes earnestly for some kind of answer as to what was going on.

"Bring him to the palace. I'll deal with him myself."

One of the guards accompanying the Prince began to politely explain why this wouldn't be entirely appropriate, but Rim raised his voice and spoke over him, silencing all those around him.

"Children who resort to theft in this city are not to be punished, they are to be guided. They cannot help their circumstances. As long as _I_ am Prince, no child shall be forced to _steal_ to keep themselves alive!" Rim flashed his soldiers a fierce look.

"Now, _bring him to the palace_. I will decide how he shall work off his crime. And be quick about it. Treat him with every respect."

"Yes, your highness!"

.

.

.

The trip to the palace had been a blur. Aini was so confused he was feeling light-headed, and he had never wanted to talk with someone so badly in his life.

As per their orders, the soldiers treated Aini very well, leading him to a small room with only a table and chairs, where food and water was brought to him. Although his stomach was in anxious knots, the boy was _starving_ , and he eagerly helped himself.

After he had eaten his fill, Aini was left alone. He sat at the table, not moving a muscle, thoughts and concerns spinning around in his mind tirelessly before finally a servant came for him. The Prince had requested his presence.

The walk to the Prince's chamber was long. The palace was like nothing Aini had ever seen, and it was ridiculously massive, almost unbelievably so. It looked like something out of a story-book, and his questions continued to accumulate as he was escorted silently through the sloped halls.

Aini was led to a pair of enormous double-doors that were opened from the inside just after the servant knocked, and Aini was ushered in. The chamber was huge, made to appear even larger by effect of the open walls behind the throne, stone pillars set far apart and lined up perfectly to display the sand dunes in the distance.

The throne itself was a modest but ornate chair that was adorned with gold and situated behind a long table, on which rested a silver basin of water. Small tables and shelves littered the room, holding lovely vases and pots, and Rim himself sat in the chair with his legs crossed. Now that Aini had a better look at him, he almost couldn't believe it was the same Rim he knew so well.

The crimson-haired youth was dressed in the finest cloth, with dark rich layers that hung from his frame as if they were _meant_ for him to wear, and a necklace of gold studded with undeterminable glittering gems of various colors that rested snugly against his chest.

The Prince saw them enter, and he immediately stood, shooing away the soldiers on either side of him with a brisk but obvious hand gesture.

"Leave us, all of you. I want to speak with him alone." Prince Rim announced, and his men bowed their heads and left the room quickly and quietly.

Silence filled the hall, and Aini endured the awkwardness by keeping his eyes fixed on his hands, which were busy fidgeting with the hem of his dirty shirt.

Without warning, footsteps echoed across the chamber and Aini was being hugged, _fiercely_ , and he could feel Rim shaking and crying and laughing all at once, which only caused Aini to break and do the same.

"Aini… Oh my Gods, _Aini_ …" Rim gasped, pulling away and grasping Aini's face in his hands. He was smiling, tears wetting his cheeks. "I'm so sorry I couldn't say anything in the city… It would have been weird, in front of everyone… Not exactly _Princely_ …"

Aini meant to laugh but it came out as more of a choke. "Am I dreaming?" he asked as Rim fussed over him, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and using a sleeve to wipe away some of the tears that Aini hadn't even realized were there. "It's really you? But I thought you… You…"

"I know, I thought so too," Rim said, hugging Aini again. They stayed like that for another moment, both of them breathing in time and managing to calm down. Rim pulled away a second time, his expression more subdued.

"I didn't think anyone else made it out. Everything was burning when we left…"

" _We_?" Aini's eyes widened.

Rim grinned. "Ghazi's here too. She's fine, we escaped together."

Aini very nearly started crying again. His two best friends were alive. They were _safe_. " _Praise_ _Manāt…_ You're both okay…"

"Did anyone else…?" Rim's brows dipped in concern when Aini's smile faded. "No one? Just you?"

"I thought I was the only one who made it out of the village," Aini admitted forlornly. "I didn't see anyone else… Do you know if your parents…?"

Rim shook his head, his eyes stormy. "No. I saw them…"

Aini pressed his lips into a thin line. He very badly wanted to hug Rim again, possibly with the intent to never ever let go, but instead an apology tumbled out of his mouth.

"Don't apologize," Rim instructed with a sad smile, "you lost everyone too, you dolt." The Prince let out a long sigh, stretching his arms in the air and sniffling back the last of his tears. "I'm just glad you're okay. I still can't believe it."

Aini looked around. Now that their reunion was out of the way, he felt the other questions bearing down on him with an almost suffocating earnest.

"Rim… This… _Everything_. How did this happen?" he asked, lowering his voice even though the two of them were alone. "They were calling you _Prince_. _Prince_ Rim. How is that possible?"

Rim's eyes were fixed elsewhere, distant, and he slowly lowered his arms, allowing them to rest on his hips. "Weird, right?" he chuckled, but his tone had changed. It was like he was pretending to be the boy that Aini knew five months ago, but was using a forged memory for reference. "Bet you never imagined _me_ being a Prince."

Aini shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Well, no, not really…"

When Rim didn't respond, Aini tried to change tactics with a bright smile. "Not to say that you couldn't make a good Prince, it's just that… Well, you _aren't_ a Prince, right, Rim?"

Silence once again rang throughout the chamber. It only lasted seconds, but it seemed so much longer than that, and when Rim finally spoke it nearly made Aini jump in surprise.

"I'm a Prince _here_ ," he said softly, calmly. Aini wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he seemed so different now, he almost didn't even resemble the carefree kid who used to always turn up at their secret meeting place with scuffed up knees and a cocky grin on his face.

"Aini… I want you to stay here at the palace. You've been living rough, right?" the Prince said, pulling Aini's arm toward him to run his finger over a couple of scrapes and bruises that didn't seem to be healing well due to malnourishment. Aini flushed.

"Is something like that… Is that okay?" the silver-haired boy asked in surprise, and Rim smiled, tossing his hair importantly.

"Of course it is! I'm the ruler of this city, what I say goes. I want you to have everything you need. You'll never want for anything, I promise."

Aini felt uneasy. It all felt too surreal, too easy, and there was so much he felt needed to be discussed before he could become part of whatever _this_ was.

"But Rim-"

"Aini." Rim's voice cut through him like a freezing wind. Aini mutely watched as Rim gently reached out and touched the side of his face.

"There's one thing you have to do for me. It's very important. Never, _ever_ ask me those questions again. Not ever."

Fear crept into Aini's chest, holding onto him as if it meant to strangle the life out of him, but his eyes remained trained on Rim's face. The Prince smiled at him, and there was a lingering sadness there, but also something incredibly dark that Aini couldn't understand.

"Promise me." Rim continued firmly. "Everything will be fine, and we can live here together. We'll never have to worry about anything. You, me, and Ghazi. Together, alive, with everything we'll ever need. But you _have_ to _promise me_."

Aini's hand reached up and timidly slid over Rim's. Something wasn't right. In fact, _nothing_ was right about this. He'd woken up today certain that he was all alone in the world, and that his best friends and family were dead. He had been reunited with someone who meant everything to him, and in the moment, he hated himself for relenting to whatever force was at work. For now, he wanted to be here with Rim. That was all he wanted.

He had already made his promise.

.

.

.

No matter how carefully and quietly Najiya opened the door, Reem _always_ woke up. It was all that vigorous royal training, he supposed.

"Najiya?" came Reem's groggy voice from the blackness of the room, and Najiya grinned even though Reem couldn't see him. The blonde slid through the narrow opening in the doorway and gently shut the door behind him.

"Mmmhmm. I _tried_ not to wake you."

Blankets rustled and made the distinct sound of a person sitting up, and something was being fumbled with in the dark. Moments later a candle was lit, and although it gave off a very poor light, it was enough to illuminate Reem's form. The officer rubbed his face with both hands, groaning.

"Najiya… This is _four nights in a row_ ," Reem sighed, and Najiya immediately offered up a pout.

" _Auhh_ , Reem, you make it sound really bad! You said yourself that if I wanted to, I could sleep in here!"

Reem reached for his eye glasses and slid them on so he didn't have to squint at Najiya from across the room. "I know I said that… But… _Every night_? This sort of thing just isn't _decent-_ "

"It's perfectly decent!" Najiya proclaimed, walking over to Reem's bed and sitting himself on it with such a comfortable familiarity that it caused Reem's cheeks to dust pink. "What's not decent about it?"

Over the last three nights, the exchange between the two had been nearly identical. Najiya hadn't been shy about his opinion regarding his sleeping arrangements. Although it was nothing to complain about and _one-hundred times_ better than sleeping on the streets, Najiya wasn't wholly comfortable sharing a sleeping space with so many other people. It wasn't as if the servants pestered him or invaded his personal space, but all the same it was unnerving and kept him up much of the night.

He had stumbled into Reem's room as easily as if it were his own. Reem had originally been very against the idea, but the palace officer had begun to realize that he couldn't very well deny Najiya anything, _especially_ when he was wheedling him with that pouting expression, and somehow the two of them had fit in his bed that night. Reem had remained as unmoving as a stone, ridged and awkward, amazed at how _quickly_ and _easily_ Najiya fell asleep next to him. The whole situation was so unorthodox, Reem almost couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Najiya, on the other hand, saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Reem sighed deeply, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well, for one," he answered, the light of the candle flickering gently and casting wobbling shadows against the farthest wall, "it isn't natural for two people to sleep in a bed together, if they aren't married or otherwise arranged."

Najiya tilted his head in thought. "I used to sleep in the same bed with my sisters all the time."

"T-That's different, that's family!" Reem groaned. "Family is different."

"I don't really see how," Najiya countered, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, no one knows about it but us, so who cares if it isn't normal?"

" _I_ know about it, and that's enough," Reem pinched the bridge of his nose.

Najiya's face fell, and he let his gaze drop to his knees, where he focused on picking at a bit of loose string on his pants. "Is it really that much trouble, letting me stay in here?" He sounded pitiful. This was a trap, Reem was sure of it, but he had still tripped over it and fallen face-first onto the metaphorical ground all the same.

"I-It's no trouble, really," _Except for the fact that I get absolutely no sleep when you're in here_ , Reem couldn't bring himself to say, and Najiya raised his gaze to meet Reem's, glossy pink globes looking dangerously close to tears.

"Are you sure? Because I _really_ don't like sleeping in there with the servants, Reem. I like it much better in here."

Reem turned away, forcing a lump in his throat down with a noticeable gulping sound.

"One more night should be all right, then," he said, and was hardly surprised when Najiya's sad-puppy-dog-out-in-the-freezing-cold act was immediately abandoned, and the blonde hopped up and down on the bed with the blind excitement of a toddler.

"Thank you! One more night, I promise!" Or two, or three, or seven.

Reem had a bad feeling that they were creating some sort of a habit.

.

.

.

"You've asked that question already, and the answer is still _yes_ , I think it would draw _far too much_ attention if you spent your time at the party submerged in the water basin," Reem said exacerbating, rubbing one of his temples.

Hafa frowned, almost a pout. "I saw it when we walked past the men carting it to the dining room. It's plenty big enough for me to able to fit inside without drawing attention to myself."

"That's not the point!" Reem exclaimed as Najiya, who was sprawled out on a large cushioned chair in the back corner of the room continued to laugh, "The guests will be _drinking_ from that basin! It's not hygienic! _Or_ decent!"

Reem suddenly and dramatically pointed at Najiya, who was wiping tears from his eyes. "Najiya! During the party, I'm tasking you with ensuring that Haru does not get into _any_ body of water, is that understood?"

"What about when I'm dancing? That's why I'm here, right?" Najiya sniggered.

"Well, of course not while you're _working_. I'll be keeping a close eye on him as well."

"I won't cause any trouble, you don't have to watch me," Hafa sighed, irritated that he was being talked about as if he wasn't there. He understood that stripping down during the party and getting into a large basin of water was most likely not something that would be a good idea, but just the thought that there was water nearby that he couldn't swim in was difficult to endure.

Despite his usual vigilance, Hafa yawned. He realized then that he had salvaged less than an hour's worth of sleep.

He and Makarim had talked on that stretch of sand until the sun had emerged on the horizon, and upon returning to Makarim's shop, the human had been so exhausted from the events of the night that he had slipped into sleep as soon as he settled down at the kitchen table.

Hafa had wished there was something more he could do for the man other than drape a blanket over his shoulders, but soon Rani and Ru'a would come to help open the shop, and Hafa would be gone.

He will have left without a word.

Hafa had arrived at the back gardens early in the morning to find Reem waiting for him. It hadn't entirely surprised him when Reem initiated a thorough search of his person, much to the protests of Najiya, who was adamant that Hafa would _never_ smuggle weapons into the palace. Hafa understood, however. It wasn't exactly regular for a nameless traveler to break into a royal palace just for a glimpse at some water, and even less so for the traveler to return to the palace with the intention of getting the Prince alone. If Reem wasn't at all suspicious, Hafa would have been disappointed.

"All of that aside," Reem started, settling his hands on his hips, "we need to run through some basic etiquette. Have you ever been to an event like this before?"

Hafa's silence and deadpan stare was answer enough. Najiya rolled off of his chair and stole a seat next to Hafa.

"Have you been to _any_ kind of party before?" Najiya continued, and Hafa's brows twitched into a frown.

"No." he said stiffly, uncomfortable with so much questioning.

"Re _aaa_ lly?" Najiya exclaimed in surprise, "Never? Not _one_?"

"That's enough, Najiya," Reem cut in gently, sensing Hafa's discomfort. "Not everyone has attended an event such as this."

Najiya realized his tactlessness, and offered Hafa an apologetic smile. "Ah, well, I've never been to one like this before, either. The Prince will be there, and lots of delegates from neighboring kingdoms, too. And think about it, I have to perform! You just get to fade into the background."

Honestly, Hafa liked the sound of that. The worst thing about this predicament, in his opinion, was being around so many unfamiliar humans.

"It's really very simple, Haru," Reem began, crossing his arms over his chest just after subtly re-adjusting the position of his eye glasses. "The purpose of this party is of a diplomatic nature. The three kingdoms nearest us have run low on resources, _water_ predominantly, and there were whispers of war as news traveled to them of our cities' water supply. Thankfully we were able to dissuade them from doing anything drastic, and today representatives of these kingdoms are coming as a show of peace and negotiation."

Hafa withheld a snort. Negotiation? If Rim was barely providing any water to his own people, he wondered how sharing water with three other kingdoms was going to fare.

"You will be led in with the others after all of the official introductions and negotiations are out of the way. When the party begins, in other words. You will speak to no one unless you are spoken to, but as you are exclusively being presented to Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din, you shouldn't have to worry about anyone speaking to you at all. Just remember to avoid eye contact with anyone important, and keep your head down, so to speak. And of course, if a guest needs something done, like a drink poured for them or something of that nature, you are expected to provide that service as well."

"When do I get to talk to Rim?" Hafa asked impatiently. "When does that happen?"

Reem sighed. "I told you before, there is no certainty that a time will come when you will be freely able to speak with him. This is simply your only chance, and I give no guarantees. Furthermore, I can't take responsibility for anything that may happen to you if you _do_ get the opportunity. I've sufficiently warned you about the risks involved."

"Hey, Reem, that's pretty cold," Najiya whined.

"I'm trying to be realistic," Reem countered, although he sounded vaguely put-off.

Hafa closed his eyes and gently shook his head. "It's alright, Najiya. He's right. I understand."

Najiya puffed out his cheeks indignantly. "You're just too reckless though, Haru. It makes me worry about you."

That was the second time Hafa had heard something like that in the last few hours. He wasn't sure why, but the smallest traces of a smile pulled at his lips.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

There it was, again. That blind reassurance.

.

.

.

Prince Rim had remained largely silent during the entire negotiation, but Siraj al Din had expected this. In fact, he preferred it this way. The vizier spoke with the delegates on Prince Rim's behalf, and although a large sum of the questions and concerns were being voiced in the Prince's direction, no one seemed to mind terribly that Siraj al Din answered for him instead.

The way the Prince had been lately, Siraj al Din couldn't have entered this predicament without a well-mapped out plan, and several back-up plans in case things didn't go accordingly. So far, the Prince hadn't combated any of the decisions being made on his behalf, although Siraj al Din could see the familiar storm raging behind his crimson eyes whenever he chanced to look.

Official matters were wrapped up much more quickly than the vizier had previously thought possible. He had accounted for the possibility of Prince Rim causing problems during the meeting with his strong dislike of sharing his resources, but the Prince seemed perfectly willing to cooperate at every turn. Siraj al Din had almost expected the meeting to erupt into a declaration of war, based on his earlier conversations with Prince Rim on the subject.

Ultimately, it had been decided that a new trading route was to be opened between the kingdoms, and in exchange for water, the kingdoms would offer wares of their own, namely silks, dyes and livestock, as well as driving their businesses and markets with a whole new slew of potential customers. All in all, it seemed to benefit all parties involved, although Siraj al Din could swear he saw the Prince twitch at every mention of water.

He couldn't help but feel uneasy about the Prince's stoic compliance as the delegates filed out of the chamber, ushered by palace soldiers to the main party hall. Left alone with the Prince, Siraj al Din turned to face him with a pleased grin.

"I believe that went very well, your highness," Siraj al Din offered, more to garner a reaction than actually engage the younger in conversation.

"Yeah," the Prince answered distantly. That storm was still raging, but he appeared perfectly placid.

"You were not very talkative. I pray the negotiations were to your liking." More bait. The Prince started towards the door, following after the procession.

"Mm."

Rim pushed the door open by barely an inch, and stopped. Siraj al Din saw the Prince's head turn minutely, and he could just barely make out a sharp grin, obscured partly by crimson hair and cloth.

"You did very well. It all went perfectly," the Prince cooed, and then elbowed the door open and was gone.

In that moment, as Siraj al Din stood alone in the chamber, he was positive that something had gone terribly awry.

.

.

.

It was all astoundingly claustrophobic.

That feeling Hafa had experienced the day he entered the city, the suffocating weight on his chest with the pained choke stuck in his throat was threatening him again, but this time he firmly suppressed it and focused on the task at hand. Hafa stood mutely against the east wall of the room, doing well to heed Reem's advice and keep his head down. He stood with a mixture of men and women, five in total, all of which had been picked by the vizier to appeal to the Prince. Hafa, apparently, was the exception, a last-minute recommendation to the vizier by Agha Reem.

The party was a success thus far, or so it seemed. The hall was dimly lit, only two small windows on either side that were covered in intricate wooden mosaics designed to let very little sunlight in. Couches, chairs and cushions lined the walls and surrounded small tables holding bowls of food, pipes and goblets of wine, none of which were going ignored by the guests. There was much talking and laughing, these noises increasing in volume as the delegates and their attendants consumed more wine and dragged more deeply from the hookahs.

Rim had entered the room a quarter of an hour ago.

Hafa's eyes had wandered several times to the Prince, who was seated on the other end of the hall on a pile of cushions among two men, Ghazi, and a well-dressed silver-haired male who sat flush with Rim's hip. Ghazi seemed subdued, her smile looking forced, but no one seemed to be taking notice. Twice Hafa had accidentally met her gaze, and both times he had felt a stab of worry in the pit of his stomach.

Makarim had correctly guessed his identity almost straight away, but after their talk the previous night, Hafa assumed it was because they had met before, however briefly. If that was the case, would Ghazi remember him just as quickly, just by looking at his eyes?

What of Rim?

"Hey, you aren't _deaf_ , are you?" a voice pulled Hafa rudely from his thoughts, and Hafa's gaze swiveled to a middle-aged man who was standing rather close to him. How had Hafa not _noticed_?

"First timer?" the man asked with a laugh, and Hafa wasn't exactly sure how to respond. Hadn't Reem _promised_ that no one would be speaking to him?

"Yes," Hafa answered simply, scouring the hall with his eyes to locate Reem. He finally spotted him and shot him a silent plea for assistance. Reem was already staring in his direction, apparently having taken notice of the circumstance, but his expression was apologetic as three important looking men in feathered turbans were currently talking to him adamantly. Hafa frowned.

"You seem so mysterious, but maybe you're just shy," the man continued, "how old are you?"

Hafa turned back to the man. He didn't want to engage the man any further, but he couldn't afford to make a scene, and Reem had explicitly instructed him to only speak when spoken to.

"Three-hundred and fif-" Hafa stopped, realizing two things: One, he wasn't entirely sure of his own age anymore although he was _sure_ he was past the three-hundred and fifty mark, and Two, humans didn't live to be three-hundred and fifty something and therefore his answer was incredibly stupid.

He realized then with a jolt of surprise that he hadn't ever really gotten a good look at his human form, other than in the reflection on the blade of his cutlass, which he had lost to the sands several weeks ago. How old did he look? For reference, Hafa looked down at himself.

"Eighteen," Hafa finally answered.

The man laughed again. "You're a strange one, aren't you?" he asked, and Hafa averted his eyes. He badly wanted this conversation to be over. From across the hall, Reem looked positively at war with himself, trying to end his own conversation as politely as he could. When Hafa looked back, the man was uncomfortably close. Hafa's nose wrinkled.

"You're here for a reason, right? How about you and me-"

"Pardon me," came another voice, and a heavily cloaked figure seemed to swoop out of absolutely no where, placing a hand firmly on the man's shoulder and pulling him back, "I believe you are confused. These consorts are _exclusively_ for the Prince. Available consorts for guests are just over there," the taller man suggested with a sweeping gesture towards the opposite wall where several men and women were being chatted up by a few other guests. Sputtering an apology, the man unsteadily wandered away.

Hafa momentarily forgot the 'don't speak unless spoken to' rule.

"Thanks," he muttered, glancing back at Reem with obvious disdain, and Reem embarrassedly re-adjusted his eye glasses in reply. "I was told I wouldn't have to speak to anyone like that."

The man with blazing red-orange hair grinned, nodding. "I'll keep a closer eye, in that case. Our guests are enjoying the wine a little too quickly and effectively, it seems." He tilted his head at Hafa, assessing him. "So _you're_ the one that Agha Reem sent me," he said, bowing his head politely. "I am Vizier Siraj al Din Ibn-Mouhsina. I apologize for not meeting with you myself earlier, but Reem assured me that he had everything under control, and I tend to think highly of him. Feel free to let me know if anyone else is hassling you."

Excusing himself with another bow of his head, Siraj al Din started toward Rim, who was still chatting with the same company of people as before.

Hafa felt odd, watching Rim in this way. The feeling he got just being in the same room with him was oppressive, and only added to the already hefty weight he could feel pressing down on his ribs. So far, Rim hadn't even glanced in his direction.

Hafa wondered if that was a good thing or not.

.

.

.

"Agha Reem! Are you enjoying yourself?"

Reem turned at the sound of the Princess's voice, and he felt his shoulders instantly stiffen. "Princess Ghazi," he offered politely, "I am enjoying myself as much as is appropriate. It is not my job to enjoy myself, of course, not when there is so much else to attend to-"

Ghazi uttered a familiar sound of distaste, one that Reem had heard plenty of times before. "Please, _please_ call me _Ghazwa_ , not _Ghazi_! You know that it's only polite…" she groaned.

Reem smiled apologetically. Although he and many others had been told by her highness to use her preferred name, tradition dictated that the staff address her by her birth name. Reem tried to appeal to her wishes more often than not, but he found it particularly difficult to do in a social situation.

"Forgive me, Princess Ghazwa," he amended, and Ghazi flashed a smile.

"See? That isn't so hard."

"I suppose not."

"I have a question for you, if it isn't too much trouble," Ghazi continued, casting a look in the direction of the Prince's consorts. Reem paled when he noticed her gaze settle on a raven-haired young man, in particular.

"I thought I saw that one," she nodded pointedly at Haru, "here in the palace several days ago. I'm curious as to who he is," the Princess said seriously.

"O-Oh? That one?" Reem cleared his throat and crossed his arms importantly. "Why, he's here for the Prince, of course. Should the Prince decide to spend time with him that is, which he may not."

Ghazi frowned at Reem suspiciously. "Weren't you with him earlier in the week? Here, in the palace?"

"Yes I was," Reem said hoarsely. Really, he didn't know why he was so nervous for all her questioning. It wasn't as if he and Haru were conspiring against the Prince, or doing anything that blatantly disregarded the law. The situation was unorthodox at worst. "I was giving him a tour of the palace." Reem nearly bit his own tongue.

"A tour of the palace?" It was Ghazi's turn to cross her arms. "Since when do consorts get a _tour_ of the _palace_ , a week before they're meant to come?"

"Well… That…"

" _Auhh_ , Reem, you forgot already?" came the unmistakable voice of Najiya, who appeared just behind Reem and patted him on the back forlornly. "Your memory isn't the best!" he declared tragically.

Ghazi was surprised at the familiarity in which the entertainment addressed an officer of the palace, but before she could dwell on that, memory jogged itself and her eyes widened.

"Oh, you were with them too, weren't you?" the Princess asked, and Najiya smiled wide and shoved Reem's arm gently.

"Yep, I can't possibly forget, that was the day I was hired!"

"Then tell me, both of you, who that man is," Ghazi instructed, nodding towards Haru. Reem blanched, but Najiya seemed completely unperturbed.

"Oh, Haru?" Najiya answered with a careless toss of his fluffy blonde hair. "He's nobody, really. He came to the palace asking for work, just like I did. Reem here decided to give him a chance, but he was terrible at cleaning and manual labor. Like really, _really_ terrible. Abysmal. The _worst_."

"I think Princess Ghazi _understands_ , Najiya," Reem inserted, trying to move the point along.

" _Ghazwa_!" Ghazi snapped firmly.

"Anyway," Najiya continued, ignoring both of them, "Reem felt too bad to turn him away, so he offered him work as a consort. I mean, _look_ at him! He's way too pretty for labor. That would be wasted talent, right there."

" _Najiya_!" Reem reprimanded, both impressed and horrified at the ease in which Najiya could spin and spew lies. Najiya merely stuck out his tongue in reply.

Ghazi stared hard at Haru, but the man seemed oblivious to it, staring off instead at the farthest wall, face half-covered in his blue keffiyeh, arms crossed indifferently. _Why_ did he seem so familiar?

"I see," she finally said, "I'm sorry for all of the questions. I just felt like I had seen him before, some time long ago."

Both Reem and Najiya exchanged a glance just before Ghazi turned back to them, lowering her head politely. "Please continue to enjoy yourselves. You're going to be performing for us, yes?" she asked Najiya, and he smiled and nodded.

"Sure am, your highness!"

Ghazi smiled. "I look forward to it, then. Excuse me," she said, and with a wave, she turned and left their presence.

Reem let out the world's longest and most anxiety-ridden sigh. " _Na-ji-ya…_ You lied to the Princess…"

"Who is she going to check it with? Besides, you lied too. _A tour of the palace_? You were _doomed_ if I hadn't overheard that, admit it!"

The palace officer allowed a small smile to pass over his lips. "I suppose I should thank you."

"Damn right you should-"

"For your uncanny and distasteful ability to lie and cheat your way out of inconvenient situations."

"H-Hey!" Najiya pouted, gripping the hem of Reem's vest and tugging on it earnestly. "That isn't a proper thank you!"

"Still," Reem raised a finger to his chin, looking somewhere else and ignoring Najiya entirely, "that is a bit strange, what Princess Ghazi said."

"Huh? Which part?"

"She mentioned that Haru seemed familiar to her." Reem said, brows knitted together in thought, "I asked Haru when we met if he knew the Prince previously, and he wouldn't give me a straight answer. But that casual manner in which he referred to the Prince, without his title... Is it possible that Haru knew the both of them at some point, long ago?"

Najiya flexed his arms above him and locked his hands behind his head, issuing a thoughtful hum.

"When I first met Haru, he mentioned the Prince a few times. I asked him about it then, and he told me he just wanted to see the water, but…" Najiya chewed on his bottom lip and glanced at Haru, who was being talked to by another consort. "I guess it's possible."

"That doesn't make any logical sense, does it?" Reem continued, his voice strained as if he were challenging a theorem. "If he knew the Prince and Princess in the past, then why is he coming back now? How could he have not known that they were royalty?"

A couple of guests, laughing and chatting idly, passed by the two men rather closely and Reem cleared his throat and gently pushed up his eye glasses.

"At any rate, we shouldn't be talking about this here. Let's just focus on what we're here to do. You're going to perform soon, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Najiya glanced back at a circle of men who were all holding instruments and talking; one of them noticed him and waved, and Najiya happily waved back. "I've been talking with those guys, they're really great! We even decided on a melody, so I'm all set!"

"Are you nervous? It's your first time in front of the Prince, after all," Reem asked the blonde with a smile.

Najiya grinned and winked. "I hope I don't mess up," he laughed.

"You'll be beautiful," Reem said without thinking. The smile on Najiya's face suggested that he wasn't going to live that comment down any time soon.

.

.

.

The serene trill of a qanun marked the start of the evening's entertainment.

The chatter floating over the hall immediately ceased, all eyes drawn to the musicians who were seated in a semicircle behind the dancer playing a light, percussive beat. Hafa could see Reem among the onlookers, arms crossed, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.

Najiya had a certain beauty to him when he danced, an element of serenity and calm that so boldly contrasted his usual personality that it nearly made Hafa want to laugh. All the same, the entire room was now trained on Najiya and his performance. He moved with a fluidity that reminded Hafa of the water itself, and he seemed to exude an aura of confidence that held everyone effortlessly under his spell.

With each turn and rock of Najiya's hip Hafa noticed Reem turn a significantly darker shade of pink, and unless his eyes were deceiving him, it appeared that Najiya was delighting in it. The blonde's eyes, which were predominantly unfocused on his surroundings as he danced, only seemed to find Reem, and the cheeky expression he wore each time Reem had to look away, flustered, was proof enough that Najiya knew exactly what he was doing.

Hafa averted his attention and craned his neck to locate Rim. No longer sitting on the opposite side of the room but instead in the center of the hall, Rim sat casually in a black-cushioned chair, slouched but attentive to the performance, the silver-haired young man standing obediently at his right side. Hafa could hear the music winding down and the rustling and occasional jingle of Najiya's outfit cease as the performance ended. Applause followed, polite and plentiful, with murmured praise. Still Hafa stared at Rim as the Prince clapped with the others, four fingers rapping against an upturned palm.

Rim's head turned, and stared directly at Hafa.

The sensation that followed hit Hafa at his deepest core. It felt faintly like being stabbed by that soldier in the city, a sick, twisting sensation that left him feeling numb. Hafa found it difficult to look away, and Rim's expression was impossible to discern. He looked _calm_. Hafa wasn't sure if there was any trace of recognition or whether he was just imagining things.

In a moment it was over, and Rim had turned away.

.

.

.

Though it was hard to tell as it was already so dim inside the hall, night had begun to fall. The guests had calmed down considerably, their energy waning with the sun, the wine leaving their cheeks red. They spoke in large groups, eating and laughing, some of them dozing off.

Rim had excused himself from the festivities for unknown reasons, just after having a seemingly straining conversation with his concerned looking silver-haired companion. Hafa was busy brainstorming ways to slip out of the hall and accost Rim when Najiya popped up just beside him, nearly scaring one of the other consorts to death.

"You look so b _oooo_ red, Haru," Najiya said sadly.

"I am. I want to hurry up and get in the water." Hafa murmured, which was mostly true. "Are you supposed to be talking to me?" he added in authentic wonderment.

"Did you see what happened a few minutes ago?" Najiya asked in a gossiping tone, rebutting Hafa's concerns. "Prince Rim and his concubine were arguing about something. Or at least, I _think_ it was an argument… I don't know, but neither of them looked very happy. I feel like cheering that guy up somehow." He glanced mournfully at the silver-haired young man, who was looking particularly sullen.

"Do whatever you want," Hafa said lazily, not really caring either way. "But I'm not sure if-"

"Hey, hey, he's coming over here!" Najiya suddenly exclaimed, elbowing Hafa obnoxiously. To Hafa's surprise, the concubine _was_ approaching them, with purpose, and Najiya pushed himself partially in front of Hafa with a friendly smile.

"I was just thinking to myself, 'Who is that guy I haven't met yet?' I'm Najiya, it's nice to meet you!" Najiya announced, which seemed to stun the fair-featured young man into momentary actionlessness. Hafa wondered if Najiya was indirectly trying to protect him from social obligations.

"O-Oh," the young man responded, awkwardly rubbing his arm, "N-Nice to meet you, as well. I've seen you around the palace the last few days, but I hadn't had the chance to get acquainted."

Najiya waved his hand dismissively with a grin. "I'm basically a servant, so it would be weird if you did, right?"

The man flushed and managed a small smile. "My name is Aini. Your performance earlier… It was very inspiring."

"Inspiring, really?" Najiya chimed, laughing. "That's nice of you to say!"

"I'm sorry to cut our conversation short," Aini cut in, his expression softening almost apologetically, "but I'm afraid I'm here for him," Here, he pointed subtly at Hafa.

Najiya almost appeared to recoil. "Huh? For Haru?" he asked, and Hafa put a hand on Najiya's shoulder to silence him.

"What did you need from me?" Hafa asked, moving Najiya aside. Aini took a step forward, and immediately halted as soon as the two of them were face to face, turquoise eyes widening in apparent alarm.

"Y-you…"

Hafa did not feel worry often, but he felt it now. He had never met this human before, but he was sure from the way Aini was now trembling and how much color had left his face that he could see something that most others could not. Still, Hafa remained composed.

"Aini, what's wrong?" Najiya asked, concerned, looking back and forth between the two men for clarity.

"N.. Nothing. It's nothing," Aini visibly straightened, eyes trained on Hafa unwaveringly. "Sorry. It was just-" He shook his head. "Prince Rim has requested your company this evening. I've been asked to escort you to his chambers."

For a long moment, neither Hafa nor Najiya spoke. Out of the corner of his vision Hafa saw Najiya's shoulders and chest swell with the threat of an outburst, but Hafa pinched his arm hard as a last-ditch effort to silence him. Najiya let out a long breath of air instead of whatever he had been planning, which dissolved into a pitiful whine as he rubbed his sore arm.

"Alright." Hafa answered, and Aini nodded politely, turning on his heel and starting toward the door. Hafa watched him go, feeling odd.

" _Haru_!" Najiya's fists balled at his chest earnestly, his voice panicked but thankfully hushed. "I can't believe this really worked! You'll get to talk to the Prince, just like you wanted!"

"Nn," Something wasn't quite right.

"You aren't _really_ going through with this, are you? I mean… The _other_ part…"

Hafa wasn't sure how to answer. Neither Najiya or Reem knew why he was doing any of this in the first place. And if he was being honest, he hadn't anticipated the night going in this direction. All at once, he felt hilariously unprepared.

Without a word, Hafa followed after Aini, leaving Najiya unanswered.

"Good luck!" Najiya called after him, and despite how inappropriate the sentiment seemed, Hafa was strangely grateful for it all the same.

.

.

.

The sounds and voices from the hall had long faded away, leaving the two men in silence as they walked along the dimly lit corridors.

Surely he had been seeing things.

Aini chewed on his lower lip, his blood feeling chilled in his veins and his pulse hammering uncomfortably in his neck, making it hard to concentrate. Glancing back would be too obvious, so he focused his attention forward and continued to walk. He wanted to blame the wine, or maybe even his argument with Rim that had left him compromised.

People didn't have auras like that, they just _didn't_. And yet this man named Haru had such a smotheringly thick haze surrounding his person, Aini was finding it incredible that no one else seemed to notice.

It had been misty and nearly blue in appearance, the same color as his eyes, which in of themselves seemed endless and older than anything he had ever seen, far beyond his physical appearance. The substance was so familiar, it nearly pained Aini to see it in such an abundance. It was more than seeing it, he was also feeling it, and it practically felt like it was draining him of all his energy.

Just like when that _thing_ was around. The only difference was that there didn't seem to be any malevolence in the air, no oppressive force that felt like it was smothering his very essence.

Without having realized it, Aini had stopped walking, a hand at his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" came the voice of the other, even and without much emotion. Before he could stop himself, Aini had a hand clenched in the white cloth adorning the creature's shoulders, and he used a surge of adrenaline to shove the man against a pillar behind them. The man called Haru didn't so much as blink in reply.

"I… What _are_ you?" Aini asked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "Are you… Are you here to kill Rim?"

Haru stared at him with a passiveness that was almost unsettling. "No," came the man's answer, and Aini released him, his hands trembling too much to appear at all threatening.

"I won't let you hurt Rim," Aini said resolutely, although he knew his voice was growing weaker. Just being _around_ this man was exhausting him. "No matter what, I won't allow that to happen."

"Why do you think I would want to hurt him?" Haru countered, the first hint of emotion surfacing in the form of indignance. Aini bit at his lower lip again and looked away.

"You aren't human, you can't be. Not looking like that, and those _eyes_ …" Aini hadn't realized it, but he had nearly fallen over; Haru caught him roughly by the shoulder and guided him to the wall, where he was able to lean comfortably. Aini issued a bitter laugh.

"Maybe you're not so evil, after all… Sorry for the trouble..."

"You're sensitive," Haru observed. Aini didn't bother to reply. It was obvious enough. "Clairvoyant?"

"If you believe in that sort of thing," Aini replied weakly.

"Then tell me about Rim. What have you seen around him?"

Haru's question came as a bit of a shock, and Aini was unsure how to answer. "How do you know-"

"It isn't important. But if you could give me any insight as to what I might be walking into, I would be grateful."

Aini stared at the creature for some time, searching those seemingly endless eyes for the same sincerity that he could hear in its voice. He looked away only to gather his thoughts.

"An aura, just like yours, except so incredibly different. It's black… No, it isn't even a color, it's more like an emotion… I don't see it often but I _feel_ it constantly. It's like a shadow." Aini's brows knitted together. "I feel it's consuming him."

Haru was staring at the floor with a frown. "Do you feel any better?"

"Ah… Yes, I'm starting to."

The creature offered a hand, and Aini took it, pushing away from the wall and managing to stand on his own without any more support.

"Are you here to _help_ Rim?" Aini asked softly. Haru shook his head.

"Not really," he said. "I just want things to go back to normal."

Aini rubbed his arm absently. "That sounds like helping to me."

Haru glanced away. "He's expecting me, right? If you're feeling better, we should go."

Aini nodded, feeling oddly emotional. He bit his lip again just to quell the tears that were stinging just behind his vision.

 _I'm sorry, Rim,_ Aini thought, guilt clawing at him deeply even though he knew it was unfounded.

_I might be breaking my promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Agha:** a high-ranking palace officer, Reem's official title.
> 
> Some explanation for Ghazi's name... It was hard finding an Arabic name that could potentially branch off into two different meanings-- one masculine, one feminine-- but it ended up working out. **Ghazi** is typically a boy's name, meaning 'warrior', or one who engages in raids or dangerous expeditions. **Ghazwa** , her preferred name, is a singulative form of the word meaning a battle or military expedition, and it also happens to sometimes be used as a girl's name, and is more feminine.  
> The history for Ghazwa used as an actual name is vague at best, but I was pretty much grasping for straws so whatever it works for me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hafa and Rim have a reunion, Najiya gets tired of being hit on by drunk party guests, and Hafa suffers a second reunion that he wasn't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for violence, mild gore and _minor_ non-con? Just to play it safe.

Aini knocked, once, twice, and although Hafa heard no reply from within the room, Aini pushed the door open.

He gestured for Hafa to enter, his head bowed respectfully. Hafa caught the human's eyes as he moved past him, and there was so much conflict behind those ice-blue irises that Hafa almost felt guilty for having something to do with it. Without a word, Aini closed the door behind him and was gone.

The room was noticeably colder than the rest of the palace and a strong, sweet fragrance hung thick in the air. Rim's chambers were massive, larger than Makarim's entire shop and living area combined, and Hafa was standing at the threshold to what looked like a living area, a pot of incense burning on a small table positioned next to a couch and several chairs. Winding off to the right was a short hall that led to a bedroom and several other rooms, and Hafa could see movement coming from within.

A figure passed by the doorway several times and then finally emerged, rubbing a cloth casually through wet hair that was still dripping over exposed shoulders. Rim's chest was bare, droplets of water still lingering on his skin, his robes hanging and tied at his waist with a black sash. White cloth fell down to his ankles, slightly damp just at the edges.

Rim looked up at his guest phlegmatically. The marid felt ridiculous for shrinking under his gaze.

"Well?" Rim drawled, drying his hair one-handed, his other hand settling on his hip. "Shouldn't you be greeting me, or thanking me for picking you above all the others tonight?"

It felt more surreal than he thought it would. He had wanted to talk to Rim so badly, but now that he was alone with him, about to exchange dialogue, he felt a strong urge to flee. This mortal body was failing him.

"Good evening, Prince Rim," Hafa managed, disliking how the words felt leaving his mouth. He offered a stiff bow.

He heard Rim scoff.

"If you're nervous, this won't be any fun," the Prince said, crossing the room and picking up a goblet of water. He drank from it deeply, and then turned to regard Hafa with a sly smile. His teeth were unnaturally sharp, each tooth ending in a smooth precision point. They certainly hadn't been like that years ago; Hafa wondered how they had come to look like that. "Thirsty?"

"No," Hafa surprised himself with his answer.

"Suit yourself," Rim replied cooly, setting the goblet back down. He shook out his hair and tossed the damp cloth on one of his nearby chairs. He issued a lengthy but contented sigh. "What's your name?"

There was only one name to give at this point, and Hafa knew that. "Haru."

"Haru?" The Prince paused, mulling over the name as if it struck a familiar cord. "What an exotic name. I _do_ like them exotic."

"The one who brought me here, he was very nice." Hafa said suddenly. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he felt almost bitter in Aini's stead. "He seems fond of you."

Rim's grin faded, and he quirked a brow in Hafa's direction before turning to face him. "I suppose he is," he said. He was approaching Hafa, his gait patient but predatory. Hafa felt that terrible shrinking sensation again.

"But we're not here to talk about other people, right?" He was close now, _so_ close and Hafa had barely noticed what little time it took for Rim to gently push him up against the wall, hands splayed over his chest, breath hot against his jaw.

"No, but-"

Rim hushed the other, close to his ear. Hafa complied, although he wasn't sure why. His body had frozen up, and all he could do was smell the water, warm and fresh on Rim's skin and try and remember why he was here in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up," Rim whispered sweetly, nipping at Hafa's neck with those teeth, his hands slipping under the cloth of Hafa's keffiyeh and treading gently over rigid muscle. "You're here to enjoy my company." he breathed, planting several kisses, hot and lingering on the skin of Hafa's neck.

It wasn't supposed to be happening like this.

When he had run it all through his head before, it seemed rather simple. He would accost Rim and get the answers he was seeking, at whatever cost. He wanted to know how it had all happened, where everything went so wrong. He had told Makarim that he didn't intend to do anything else, that he did not want it to go any farther, and he still felt that way.

He realized his mistake.

There was no exit.

He could no longer phase through walls, he could not evaporate into the atmosphere in the form of smoke. He couldn't shape-shift into an ant and scurry away. Just like when Makarim had pulled him from the palace oasis and saved him the trouble of drowning, he had forgotten the boundaries of his wretched humanity.

 _There was no exit_.

There was only this space between the wall and Rim, and the suffocating closeness of this human he used to consider a friend.

"W-wait," Hafa got out, summoning his voice which had felt just as frozen as the rest of him.

Rim uttered a growl which vibrated against his jugular, causing an involuntary shudder. He left a stinging bite along the solid muscle running along the right side of Hafa's neck.

"I said _shut up_ ," Rim whispered, pulling away and tilting Hafa's head just enough to press their mouths together.

If felt different. It wasn't as offensive as Hafa originally expected it to be, but it felt wrong. Hafa thought to Makarim, and the times their lips had met in this way, and it felt so _right_ , so comfortable and safe. Right now Hafa felt like he was struggling to breathe, sinking like a stone into shark infested waters in a frail human body, reaching for the surface when he knew that death was the only thing that would welcome him.

He could feel Rim's hand sliding down his stomach and breaching the first layer of cloth at his waist; Hafa experienced a jolt of panic that shot through him violently, snapping him out of whatever trance had him immobilized. Hafa grabbed Rim's upper arms tightly, wrenching the two of them apart.

"Rim, _stop_!"

"Pardon me?" Rim growled, looking utterly aghast, "The fucking _impudence-_ "

The initial fury in Rim's eyes faded so abruptly it was almost as if it had been blown away by a storm. His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound escaped, save for a broken whisper of something that had undoubtedly started as a word. He seemed lost in Hafa's eyes, the recognition setting in and the disbelief causing his jaw to clench. Unsteadily, he pushed away from the other man, putting a solid several feet between them.

"You… No, it isn't, because… It _can't_ be…"

"Rim-"

" _No_." Rim shouted, taking another step backward. His teeth were set in a furious snarl, but his eyes betrayed him, looking almost as if he could cry. "...Hafa?"

Hafa said nothing, which must have been so typical for him that Rim inhaled a breath sharply, covered his mouth with his hand and turned away.

There was silence while Rim paced the floor, presumably collecting his thoughts. Hafa wasn't sure what to make of what was happening. He felt uncomfortable, and not nearly as prepared for this reunion as he hoped he'd been. Hadn't Rim _known_ it was him? Why else did he invite him here?

"How?" came Rim's voice, sharp and angry, and Hafa nearly flinched away from it.

"It isn't important."

"The _Hell_ it isn't!" Rim snarled, eyes ablaze. "When I last saw you, you- You…"

Hafa felt himself frown. "Can't you say it?" he challenged in a calm voice.

Rim laughed, a bitter laugh that sounded almost hysterical. "Don't you _dare_ act as if I have anything to be sorry about. The only thing I regret about that day was that I didn't do it sooner."

Even though Hafa had been expecting it, the words bit him just the same.

"I'm not here because of that."

"I don't care. You still haven't answered my question. _**How**_?" The last word was said slowly, furiously, and Rim took two threatening steps toward the marid, who remained unmoving. Hafa saw a glimmer of the bitter child he once knew.

"I don't know," Hafa admitted. "I'm wondering that myself. About this place, about you. Rim, how did any of this happen? Why did you take the water?"

The Prince laughed again, tossing his head back, that same note of hysteria lingering in the raucous sound. As the laughter died down he murmured something, so low that not even Hafa could hear.

"What?"

Rim's eyes flashed, his honed teeth clenched and appearing vaguely murderous. " _How_ _ **dare**_ _you_!" he repeated, almost a shriek, and this time Hafa found himself shrinking back yet again.

"How fucking _dare_ you… After everything you did… You find your way into my palace, demanding information from me!? Of all the-"

"Rim, just help me understand what's happened. This isn't _right_. It's magick, correct? Who showed you how to do it? Why did you take the water?"

Rim scoffed, his jaw still clenched and his adam's apple bobbing with the threat of emotion. He turned away.

"I should have figured you would be more concerned about the water. You never gave a shit about me _or_ my sister, right? Even back then…" he trailed off, and Hafa couldn't help but feel guilt at the words. He wanted to tell him how wrong he was, how he _had_ cared, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, Hafa took a few tentative steps toward the Prince. When he was standing just behind him, he could see Rim's shoulders trembling. He had never been able to resist the human when he was crying.

"Rim."

Hafa put a hand gently on Rim's shoulder to turn him, and Rim followed his lead effortlessly, his eyes downcast, unfocused and glistening with water.

"Rim, I-"

Something below eye-level moved, there was a rustle of cloth, and something shining and cool sunk into Hafa's flesh just below the left side of his ribcage.

For a surreal moment, neither of them budged from their positions. The pain seemed delayed somehow as Hafa watched Rim, searching him for an explanation. Rim's hands were shaking, staring at the curved dagger with wide eyes and an incredulous expression that could be compared to fear. When he managed to pry his eyes away from what he'd done, he looked at Hafa's face, mouth hanging open and tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

"I- I didn't, Hafa… I _didn't_ …"

If time had stopped for a moment, it had resumed its flow now with agonizing promptness. The pain hit Hafa red-hot and searing, and with a gasp he staggered backward, dagger still lodged within him. Rim backed away and raked both hands roughly through his hair.

"Shit… _Shit shit shit_ , Hafa, I didn't- It wasn't…"

The curved steel was hooked just under Hafa's bottom rib, and Hafa grabbed the golden handle with care, sucking in breath before angling it properly and pulling it free. He cried out, dropped the weapon and stumbled backwards to grab the wall for support. He leaned into the wall, a hand over the gushing wound.

"R-Rim…"

The Prince's face was in his hands, crying and murmuring apologies and other things that Hafa couldn't hear easily. There was something growing, a darkness from just behind Rim's shoulders that was swelling and retracting as if it were breathing on its own. Aini was wrong, it wasn't black, it was a blood red, thick and unbelievably dark. Hafa wasn't sure if it had just appeared or whether he could only see it because he was closer to death than before, but it wasn't a hallucination.

The mumbling stopped, and Rim seemed to freeze. Something had changed, a shift in the atmosphere like the transition from a hot summer into a brisk autumn, and Hafa watched on as Rim lowered his hands, his lips pulled into the smallest of grins.

The Prince's gaze shifted to Hafa. The marid felt the damnable shrinking again, but for a different reason than before. He didn't know these eyes.

No trace of Rim was left behind those glinting crimson irises.

.

.

.

Siraj al Din had been talking to two of the delegates in the party hall when he was abruptly accosted by the Princess.

"I apologize, but it's very important," Ghazi explained to the small group adamantly, her hand gripping the vizier's arm strongly and yanking him away. Confused and perhaps a tiny bit flattered, Siraj al Din waited until they were out of earshot to inquire about the Princess's motives.

"Have you been _down there_ lately? To check on the pipe?" she asked him. The vizier crossed his arms.

"Every day for the last three days. Why do you ask?"

"Was it acting the same as before, when you showed it to me?"

Siraj al Din frowned. "Well, no. It was behaving normally, why?"

Ghazi sighed deeply, casting another look around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. Almost everyone present other than the palace staff was rather intoxicated or otherwise occupied, so there was really not much to worry about in terms of keeping their conversation private.

"I need to see it again. Will you take me?"

Siraj al Din's brows raised. "Well, if the Princess wishes it, of course I will. But why now?"

Ghazi offered him a feeble smile. "I just want to confirm something. I figured while my brother is busy, it might be the perfect time to break away."

"I suppose that's true," Siraj al Din said, waving over a palace soldier. Agha Reem had been relieved for a personal break, so the vizier settled for leaving the highest ranking soldier present in charge while he attended to the Princess. He left their errand vague, but no one in the palace save for the Prince ever made a habit of questioning the Grand Vizier.

Siraj al Din placed a hand gently at the curve of Ghazi's back and led them both from the room.

"We'll have to make it quick, the Prince wants me back here for the final toast of the evening." Siraj al Din glanced down at Ghazi as they walked. "Are you going to tell me what you're hoping to confirm?"

"I promise. Let's just worry about getting there unnoticed for now, and I'll explain everything." she said.

.

.

.

Reem had excused himself for 'just a minute' more than thirty minutes ago, and Najiya was bored.

It wasn't as if he couldn't keep himself entertained back in the party hall, but it was becoming abundantly clear that all of the guests were either tiring out or drunk beyond all reason; either way, the party was losing its appeal for Najiya. Five times in the last thirty minutes Najiya had to ward off enthusiastic sexual advances from increasingly intoxicated guests, and he was almost positive that at least two of those men had mistook him for a woman. Once he'd seen Princess Ghazi leave with the vizier- his last lifeline for a friendly conversation that wouldn't end in a dirty limerick- he'd had enough.

It was the first time Najiya had ever roamed the palace halls with absolutely no accompaniment, and in truth, he had no real idea of where he was going. Thankfully, he was in no hurry. The palace was beautiful and quiet, and for several hours the noise of the party had bored into his ears without rest. Najiya was not against noise, in fact he _thrived_ in it and was often the brunt, but the transition to the stillness of the empty corridors was a welcome one all the same.

As he had been walking with no real direction or goal, it took him by surprise when he spotted the familiar mess of dark hair and flash of expensive eyewear from the other end of the hall.

"Reeeem!" Najiya called, waving excitedly and needlessly kicking a foot into the air.

Reem didn't look dreadfully happy to see him, and Najiya briefly wondered if he'd done something to upset the man without realizing it. Still, he met Reem halfway, swinging his arms behind his back.

"Reem, where have you been? You were gone for a while, and someone got _reeeeally_ drunk and lit a couch on fire."

"What?!" Reem exclaimed, and Najiya couldn't suppress a grin.

" _Kidding_ , kidding. No fires yet, but boy, everyone is pretty drunk. I mean, I guess that means that the negotiations were a success and everything, so that's great, but some of those dirty old men were getting a little _friendly_."

Reem's frown faded, but he didn't seem any more relaxed. "Mm. You've been drinking, too."

"Huh? How can you tell?" Najiya demanded, glancing down at his feet to check if he was teetering without realizing.

"Your face is all pink." Reem replied, his eyes fixed elsewhere, on the wall.

Najiya tilted his head with a mischievous smile. "So's yours." He giggled, perhaps a little too hard. He _was_ feeling it, but he definitely wasn't drunk.

"It isn't from drinking." came Reem's sharp reply, which immediately dissolved the grin on Najiya's face. The blonde's brows dipped in worry. Reem was acting very strangely. In fact, he had started acting stand-offish with Najiya just after his performance in the hall.

"Reem, is everything okay? Where did you go for so long? You aren't acting like yourself."

Najiya knew that Reem wasn't the most easy-going guy in the world, but over the last few days, he felt like the two of them had formed a friendship of sorts, and although Reem tended to be a bit uptight and disapproving, he never seemed _truly_ cross with Najiya or completely unable to look him in the eye.

Reem sighed, his expression distinctly apologetic. "I just needed a breather. It wasn't a problem, there was more than enough staff to chaperone in my absence."

"That's not really the point-"

"I was just heading back," Reem said evasively, striding past the blonde and making towards the party hall. Najiya grabbed him by the bend of his elbow, halting him.

"Hey! Reem, just wait a minute!" he cried, nervousness settling into his stomach. "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?"

The question caused Reem to whirl on the spot, looking squarely at Najiya for the first time since their conversation began.

"N-no, Najiya, it's nothing like that…" Reem sighed. Najiya hadn't yet released Reem's arm and didn't intend to until he got to the bottom of things.

"Then what's wrong?"

"It…" Reem's face was lit with embarrassment, cheeks dusted pink, and it really _did_ look like he'd had too much to drink although Najiya hadn't seen a drop of wine touch his lips all night.

"I suppose…" the officer issued a fraught groan. "Your dance, earlier. It was… Beautiful." he finished, and Najiya could not contain a confused scowl.

"And that's… Bad?" the blonde replied, finally releasing Reem's arm to cross both of his own over his chest.

"No!" Reem exclaimed. He sounded frustrated, but Najiya couldn't imagine why. " _Everyone_ thought you were beautiful. All eyes were trained on you. No one could look away. And I…"

Najiya tilted his head, brows raised. Reem deflected Najiya's imploring gaze expertly and glanced away. He cleared his throat, mumbling words into the cough. Najiya inclined his head. "Huh?"

Reem's mouth pressed into a firm line. "I found myself jealous." he repeated, still hardly above a whisper.

Najiya blinked once, twice, and then his eyes widened in realization. "Wha- _Really_? Jealous? You? Me? Because of _that_?" he asked incredulously, as Reem distractedly adjusted his eye glasses and tried to pretend that his face was _not_ on fire.

"Yes, because of _that_."

"But how come? You hired me to dance at the party in the first place, so-"

"I know I did! It's not as if I regret hiring you, or anything to that effect."

"Then what is it, Reem?"

The other man had fallen unnaturally silent. It almost seemed like Reem didn't have an answer, but Najiya knew that Reem _always_ had an answer for every question, no matter how frivolous.

"Could it be… Do you want to learn to dance too, Reem?" Najiya asked in wonderment, and Reem stared at Najiya in utter disbelief.

" _What_?! No!"

"Then what-" Najiya's question was cut short as Reem grabbed him by the shoulders. The force of it rocked Najiya backwards a step, and he froze under Reem's gaze which was determined and vaguely fed up. His mouth went dry as he realized what exactly appeared to be happening, and he felt foolish for not understanding earlier.

"Seeing others stare at you like that," Reem breathed, his eyes burning into Najiya's with purpose, "it made me jealous. I felt in that moment that I didn't want anyone else to see how beautiful you were."

The words struck Najiya into a stunned silence. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. More than that, it was _Reem_ saying these things, serious, no-nonsense Reem. Regardless of how flirtatious Najiya tended to act with the officer, it had always been in good fun, in an effort to embarrass or fluster. All at once Najiya felt guilty for making light of something so serious.

Up until now, Najiya had assumed that Reem was simply putting up with him, viewing him as something of a bother but being too kind to turn him away. Although Najiya had certainly never felt disliked, he had never considered being desired. The very idea that Reem felt strongly enough to experience jealousy or possessiveness over him was enough to ignite desires in Najiya that he hadn't even known were there.

"I'm sorry," Reem said, seeming to take the silence for rejection. "That was completely uncalled for… Not to mention _unprofessional_ , and I-"

Najiya's hands fisted themselves in Reem's vest, yanking him down just enough to meet his mouth. The blonde crushed his lips over the other man's, teeth clicking together clumsily to mark the haste and inexperience of both parties, but that mattered little to either of them. Very quickly Reem accepted the gesture and responded, hands leaving Najiya's shoulders to slip behind his head, fingers curling in fluffy blonde hair.

Najiya opened his mouth invitingly and tilted his head back just as he released Reem's vest and slid his arms around Reem's neck to lock him in place. It felt incredible, whatever this was, and Najiya suspected that he could get addicted to the feeling of Reem's tongue sliding against his own, hot mouths working tirelessly against one another in a haphazard mess of sloppy passion. He hummed into Reem's mouth, angling his head just so, his body feeling so light that he might float away if Reem didn't have a firm enough hold.

The officer's hands left the alluring softness of Najiya's hair and boldly gripped the dancer's hips, closing off the remaining distance between their pelvises. The heat emanating from Reem's body was intense and caused Najiya to shudder involuntarily while a hot, tight feeling swelled in his stomach.

Their kissing had become desperate and noisy, Najiya unable to contain gleeful whines and moans as Reem's tongue aggressively explored his mouth. Najiya sucked the taller man's bottom lip between his own and Reem grunted in reply, pulling away. Both of them were panting, Najiya realizing hazily that half of the time he had been forgetting to breathe. From the way the dark-haired man was fighting for breath, he assumed he hadn't been the only one.

"That…" Reem panted, eyes half-lidded and dark, and Najiya grinned impishly, arms still slung around the officer's neck to keep him close. "I was not expecting any of that."

Najiya laughed. "You know, if you're so jealous of other people watching me, I could give you your own _private_ dance," Najiya said devilishly, and Reem's eyes darted away out of embarrassment.

" _Najiya_!" he chided, but his tone was less than convincing. "That wouldn't be decent…"

"But it might be _beautiful_ , right?" Najiya urged with a playful smile.

Despite his strive to maintain a semblance of cool composure, Rei uttered an undignified snort and grinned in reply. The smile faded just as something rather serious perched itself on his tongue, and Najiya could tell it was there by the way Reem seemed to try and swallow the words.

"Najiya. I believe I have an attraction to you."

"You don't say?" Najiya giggled, recklessly abandoning all attempts at romanticism.

"I mean it," Reem said, more firmly, and Najiya's expression solidified appropriately. The dancer shrugged up his shoulders.

"No one's ever told me that before." he admitted, and Reem blinked at him in surprise. Najiya's eyes rolled upward. " _Well_ , no one who wasn't drunk. Because like twenty minutes ago there were a _ton of guys_ who-"

"Najiya."

"-I really think some of them thought I was a _girl_ , though-"

"Najiya!"

Najiya tightened his hold around Reem's neck and flashed a cheeky smile. "If you want me to shut up, you're gonna have to kiss me," he instructed, and Reem felt the familiar heat wash over his face as Najiya's head pushed forward and met his mouth again, gentler this time, with a greater understanding of how this kissing thing was supposed to go.

Neither of them gave thought to someone catching them in the act. The reality of it was there somewhere, in the back of Reem's mind, currently being aggressively squashed by hormones. All that seemed to matter now was the bitter, lingering taste of wine in Najiya's mouth and the feeling of his thumbs running firmly over the exposed skin just above Najiya's hip bones.

Reem was diligently memorizing every whine and squeak Najiya was producing, and exactly what he had done to earn each sound so that he could duplicate it. Najiya eagerly tossed his head back, breaking their panting mouths apart and exposing his throat; Reem responded by licking gently along Najiya's jawline, earning him a fluttering moan and a noticeably quicker pulse. Najiya's arms fell from Reem's shoulders and groped behind him for the wall, searching for firmer stability, and Reem gently pushed the blonde until his back was flush with cool stone. Najiya felt his shoulder blades press into the wall as Reem's hands methodically explored his stomach and sides, every touch causing the heat in his stomach to coil even more tightly.

As Reem pressed his lips to Najiya's collarbone, the dancer let his eyes fall closed and his lips part, curving his back against the wall and pressing hard against it. It was then that something behind them shifted and gave way, which neither of them noticed in the slightest until Najiya felt distinctly like he was falling, and opened his eyes in surprise to find that he really _was_.

Najiya sputtered a surprised yelp just as Reem's reflexes returned to him and he shot forward, firmly grasped Najiya's wrist and yanked the boy towards him. They collided with less grace than Reem had intended, Najiya's head banging into Reem's chin and knocking his eye glasses askew. Najiya righted himself, flustered, and turned to view the offending wall.

The wall was open. Just, _open_. A near-invisible panel had sunk into the wall and flawlessly slid aside, revealing an ominous staircase that descended downward at an intimidating angle. Upon closer inspection, Najiya could see the barely noticeable trigger he must have pressed on the wall to cause it to open up; a smooth, rectangular piece of stone that was colored a bit differently than the rest of the wall. Without knowing what you were looking for, it seemed impossible to differentiate from everything else.

"What _is_ that?" Najiya exclaimed, finding it only moderately difficult to tame his arousal after almost having plummeted down those mysterious steps. "A secret room or something?"

Reem was staring at the door with a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I didn't know anything about this." He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to switch back to work mode despite the activities he'd been engaging in just moments ago.

Najiya turned to him with a look of unmistakable awe. "You didn't know this was here?" he asked, entirely too giddy. "So it _is_ a secret room!"

"This isn't something to get excited about," Reem said sternly, although Najiya silently disagreed, "I'm supposed to know every nook and cranny of this palace. If this is here and I didn't know about it…" Reem pulled his sword from its scabbard and approached the opening in the wall, looking down the seemingly endless staircase. "Najiya, go back to the party. Don't tell anyone what you saw. The last thing we need is for some sort of scandal to occur while we're entertaining guests with whom we're trying to avoid war."

"What? No, I'm not leaving!" Najiya exclaimed, fists balled in determination. "If you're going down those creepy stairs, I'm going with you!"

Reem sighed heavily. "Didn't you notice?" He gestured to the torches on the rocky, uneven walls of the narrow staircase. Najiya tilted his head.

"Torches. So what?"

"They're _lit_ ," Reem said, raking a hand through his hair and adjusting his vest. If he was going down those stairs, he at least wanted to look like a man who _hadn't_ just been kissing someone against a wall like a horny teenager. "That means someone's already down there. It could be dangerous."

"Then round up some other guys for back-up! Don't go down there _alone-_ "

"That's exactly the problem," Reem sighed, shaking his head. "our ranks are already so corrupt, for all I know, that 'back-up' is exactly who I'll find down there. Or it could be nothing. It's anyone's guess, but either way, it's my duty to go investi- Najiya, where are you going…!?"

Najiya had already breached the first few steps and turned back with upturned eyebrows. "The longer you talk, the more time we're wasting!" he pointed out. Reem glared at him, and Najiya deflected the look effortlessly. "Listen here, you can't just _make-out_ with me, confess all these _feelings_ , and then expect me to run on back to the party."

Reem reddened. "I- I didn't _confess_ anything, I just-"

"Yeah, uh huh. Come _oooon_! This is time we _could_ be spending exploring these creepy mystery stairs!" Najiya announced, and Reem was reminded rather bluntly that he would never be able to deny this fiery blonde anything in the world.

.

.

.

"Rim?"

No immediate response, only a slight tilt of the head and pull at the corner of his mouth. Hafa's blood felt like it was freezing. The temperature in the room had undoubtedly declined, but Rim seemed impervious to it. Hafa groaned, trying his best to apply pressure to his wound with an arm that was fast weakening.

"Rim… Say _something…_ "

"Sorry," came the curt reply, sharp and in a tone so very different from Rim's voice just moments ago, "I was enjoying the moment." Rim took a couple of light steps toward Hafa, glancing down at him with a certain morbid curiosity. "How is it down there? Comfortable?"

Hafa tried to glare, but it came off as more of a grimace. "You're not Rim."

The Prince scratched the back of his head and looked around, almost as if he were looking for another person in the room. "Well, if we're getting _technical_ ," he answered coolly, ending his sentence with a sharp laugh, "I am, but I'm not. Possession is a tricky thing. You should know that, you were a djinn once." Rim's eyes darkened. " _Once_ ," he repeated, the meaning behind the word making Hafa's skin crawl.

"You're possessing Rim," Hafa coughed, wishing fiercely that he wasn't in such a compromising situation. He was no threat to anyone like this.

"Possession is a mutual deal. Don't make it sound so vulgar. You know as well as I that the human is just as responsible-"

"How long?" Hafa demanded, fighting valiantly against his body's urges to expel the contents of his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was throw up in front of whomever this was.

The Prince smiled, displaying all of those perfectly pointed teeth. "Quite some time," he admitted, walking over to Hafa and stopping in front of him. "Longer than you might guess."

"Why?" the marid asked furiously. He felt he knew the answer already, but he needed to hear it. He needed to make sense of everything.

Rim picked up the dagger in one hand and grabbed Hafa's arm with the other, yanking the man upright with no consideration for his wound. Hafa coughed in pain, stumbling awkwardly with the Prince as he was dragged toward the narrow hallway that led to the bedroom. He was released at the foot of Rim's bed where he collapsed, panting and groaning, as Rim disappeared into the next room.

"There. Now we can speak as I dress," Rim called carelessly. "He really shouldn't have stabbed you, I think that was a little uncalled for. I'm sure I would have done that _eventually_ , but you had all these little questions you wanted to ask. Makes it harder when you're busy dying."

"You knew w-who I was, that's why you had Rim invite me here," Hafa choked out, his head feeling lighter than the rest of him. He pulled his hand away to view the wound; something like this wasn't likely to kill him immediately, but the pain and blood loss was making it increasingly difficult to think and function.

"I suggested it." Rim admitted. His voice was somewhat muffled, as he was pulling cloth over his head. "He did the rest, but he had no _idea_ what was going on. He hadn't been putting up much resistance lately. It wasn't hard."

"Why did you _do_ all of this?" Hafa asked. He needed to get as many answers as he could before he lacked the energy to do so. "Why did you take the water? Why are you making the people of this- _urk-_ city suffer?"

Rim poked his head into the room, a brow elegantly quirked. "You think I'm the only one to blame?" He chuckled, almost giddily. "Hafa, how far into denial are you willing to sink?" The Prince's head disappeared again. "You can't pretend that possession works a certain way just to sooth your own insecurities. He _invited_ me. I might have nudged him in certain directions, but it was always his choice to walk."

Hafa managed a scoff, although it hurt far too much to attempt again. "A djinn's influence isn't likely to be overpowered by a human's will."

"An _Ifrit_ ," Rim's voice sternly corrected from the next room, and Hafa felt his heart skip a beat. Ifrits were not to be taken lightly. They were arguably one of the strongest breeds of djinn, and Hafa was bleeding and dying in a mortal body mere feet away from one of them.

"If Rim has just as much control as you do, then bring him back. Let me talk to him."

The Prince emerged from the next room fully dressed, jewelry decorating his chest and wrists and a flowing black robe hanging over white cloth that was tied snugly at the waist with a black sash. An elaborate red turban was wrapped loosely around his head, crimson cloth spilling over his shoulders. He did a spin, arms outstretched.

"How do I look?"

"Let me talk to Rim."

"How should I put this," the Prince tapped a finger to his chin, eyes fixing on the ceiling as he searched for the correct phrasing. "Rim has excused himself indefinitely."

Hafa opened his mouth to talk but dissolved into coughing instead.

"Were you about to ask, _how could that happen_? So glad you did," the Prince said with a cackle, stepping toward the writhing mortal on the floor. He grabbed Hafa's chin and jerked his face upward. "It's because of you."

Hafa's expression must have brought joy to the ifrit, because he grinned wide, showing off his teeth at their best angle.

"I was wearing him down for _years_ , Hafa. I chose him for his endurance, but even _I_ was surprised by the power of that boy's will. But you, Hafa, finally broke him. Seeing you again seemed to do the trick."

No. _No_ , that wasn't possible. This was some kind of ruse. Hafa pulled from his last limited reserve of strength to wrench away from the Prince's grip. Rim stood up, sighing.

"He's still such a child. Such a frightened, guilty little child."

"How do you know my name?" Hafa spat, badly wanting to change the subject.

Rim looked mildly offended. "How do I- Do you _still_ not remember me? I realize that in your current condition, your Sight doesn't exactly reach like it used to, but are you seriously still in the dark?"

Hafa was stonily silent.

Rim clicked his tongue. "That's cold even for you, Hafa. I know we weren't exactly bedfellows, but we _had_ run into each other a few times. I thought I would have left more of an impression."

Wheels turned and long neglected memories whirled to life, burning dimly. They were hard to piece together, like an old dusty tome that was missing half of its pages. The memory of a djinn is an unfailable device, spanning centuries and able to recall almost anything at any time. Hafa could still remember what it was like, being able to dissolve into your own being and see every moment of your life mapped out for you like a tapestry. It all seemed like something he had imagined, something surreal that he had dreamed up. His essence had been inside a mortal vessel for so long, he had nearly forgotten how it all worked.

The human brain by comparison was an inefficient mess of hazy images, far-away phrases and chronologically incorrect events that may or may not have happened. And it was here that Hafa tried to remember the name.

Amidst the mess there were many memories that remained unchanging and strong, floating above the rest for frequent examination, and he knew of at least two memories that involved an Ifrit. The first was a cold, clear night when he had seen a brunette human child get pulled maliciously under the dark water. The second was a village, alight with an other-worldly fire as the humans ran and screamed and died.

"Sharik." Hafa breathed, and the Prince scowled, flinching only minimally at the use of his given name.

"Fucking _rude_ ," the Prince, or perhaps the more appropriately named Sharik snarled, and aimed a kick at Hafa's stomach. The blow wasn't altogether unexpected, but Hafa still hissed in pain and fell to his side, his wound searing and his ears ringing badly. Sharik left him to cough and sputter, crossing the room to drink from yet another goblet of water. He sighed in satisfaction.

"How dare you use my name so _casually_. I was doing you the service of calling you Hafa, after all. I could have easily called you _Hafa'ma_ , couldn't I? Tell me, does the name still sting you in that human body?"

It did, but Hafa couldn't form words to convey. He hadn't heard his true name spoken out loud in at least two-hundred years.

A djinn's name was its very soul, it's existence bound to every syllable. A human could control or summon a djinn using its real name, and as such, djinns rarely ever let their names wander freely.

With incredible effort, Hafa pushed himself up and rested his back against the end of the bed, eyes closed, struggling for a clear breath.

"You… Y-you told Rim my name. That's… _hng-_ how he was able to summon me, yes?"

"These answers are getting a bit obvious, now. Really."

"But the curse was all you," Hafa accused bitterly. "You showed him how to s-summon me, and then you cursed me. Why."

The Prince stared at Hafa dispassionately before cracking a wry smile. "This is actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be."

Hafa opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps, and although his vision was swimming badly, he could see Rim's form out of the corner of his eye settling next to him on the floor, shoulders bumping gently together as Sharik leaned against the end of the bed. He sighed contentedly.

"I fear that soon, dear Hafa, you'll not be able to hear me, so I'll make this quick."

The marid had never felt more torn between listening and dying. He wasn't sure which would be easier, at this point. He had come here for answers, and once again he was reminded of how unprepared he'd been.

"Do you remember that night, Hafa? The night a foolish mortal summoned me to their village, with the intent of enslaving me? Even by human standards, it didn't happen so long ago, you can't have forgotten… You were there, remember? You were watching."

Hafa averted his eyes, Rim's shoulder flush against his own, although he was rapidly losing feeling in his arm. "I wasn't _watching_. It was none of my business."

"Your voice is getting so quiet," Rim's voice cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone. "You were _watching_. You witnessed the extermination of an entire colony of humans, and you didn't so much as bat an eye." he hissed.

Hafa could almost _hear_ the grin, sadistic and carefree, and Sharik nudged Hafa's arm playfully, nearly sending the marid crashing onto his other side. "You don't have to get so _down_ about it. What are humans, anyway? Just small, sad little creatures. And I killed them all that night. All they could see was the blazing inferno… But _you_ saw more than that. You saw me there. And you saw two little children teeter out of that sad scene."

He felt sick. The pain was causing bits of his vision to blot out, and he had never wanted death to come so swiftly for him before.

"Strange, strange Hafa'ma… You watched their village burn to the ground, but you took pity on them anyway. You _helped_ them. Guilty conscious, maybe? Who knows… But in the end, you became friendly with them, didn't you?" Sharik laughed softly, almost fondly. "Strange Hafa."

"How does this explain _anything_?" Hafa demanded acidly. "I remember all of this."

"There's more, keep listening. Your time is running out." Sharik scolded. "Someone else noticed those children. Didn't you ever wonder why I didn't just finish them off? I couldn't have known for certain that they didn't know my name, after all. It would have been better to kill them. But the boy… So much rage, sadness and bitterness in that heart of his. It was exactly what I needed. While you were busy dazzling them with ridiculous magick tricks, I was whispering promises. When he finally tired of you, he came to me."

" _I get it_ ," Hafa murmured. "you possessed him, t-told him my name. And you cursed me."

"That's the best part!" Sharik moved, Rim's face suddenly coming into focus right in front of Hafa as he nestled between Hafa's thighs, hands reaching out and grasping the marid's face in his hands to keep his head upright. Hafa hadn't noticed it had been drooping. "I didn't do it. Rim cursed you _himself_. I helped, of course. There was no way any human child could conjure up something that magnificent. But it was entirely his own will."

Hafa felt a swell of emotion inside of him that he hadn't been expecting. He hadn't wanted to admit to himself that Rim might have been so furious with him, so loathing that he had sentenced Hafa to those years alone on the sands without any outside influence.

"You're lying," Hafa accused weakly.

"How angry do you think he was when I told him that you watched his village burn?" Sharik asked in Rim's voice, tilting his head curiously. "How furious could he have been to find that his magical djinn friend saw his parents die and did nothing about it? I gave him your true name, so that he could summon you if he wished. And when he did, you confirmed his rage. You just couldn't bring yourself to lie to your little human friend."

If he could have moved, spoken, done anything at all other than sit on the floor as Sharik held his face in his hands, he would have. But he was slipping quickly, and there was still one last thing he wanted to know.

"Why?" Hafa choked out, "Why d-did you do all of this? Why possess Rim, why make him a Prince? Wh-why curse me? It doesn't… Make any sense…"

He faded to blackness for a few seconds, only to feel a stinging slap across his face bringing him back.

"Don't give out on me now," Sharik laughed. When Hafa managed to focus his bleary gaze on the Prince, the sharp grin faded away. "As for why," his tone lowered and became more menacing. "I have my reasons. But I have a much better question for _you_."

All of Hafa's senses exploded at the same time and his mouth slackened in a silent scream. Sharik had lodged Rim's dagger into his stomach, just above the navel. Hafa no longer had the strength to scream, or even to jerk away from the offending blade. All he could manage was placing a shaking hand on Rim's, which only caused Sharik to carve into him with more vigor.

" _Why_ ," Rim's voice was so very close to Hafa's ear, breathing hot air over his neck, "Why did you save that little boy by the water's edge? _Why_ , Hafa?"

As Hafa choked on his own blood, Sharik twisted the blade. "Tell me why you saved him, but not the others? _**Why him**_?!"

Blissful darkness was sweeping him away, and the pain, as it so often did, was fading into nothing but an unpleasant memory. He could still feel the warmth of his own blood and viscera as it spilled onto the floor of Rim's room, but it was growing colder by the second. He could vaguely see men wearing uniforms of black and grey standing over him as Sharik spoke to them in Rim's voice.

As Hafa relented to mortal death, his mind was solely focused on the last burning question Sharik had asked him. His thoughts were with the little boy he had saved on that cold night, the innocent little boy who had been trying to overcome his fears of the unknown and had been dragged under the calm currents by a wandering ifrit for reasons that Hafa had never questioned until this very moment.

As Hafa died, his thoughts were with Makarim.

.

.

.

Of all the things Reem had been expecting, this wasn't even close.

As Reem and Najiya finally reached the end of the stone stairway, they had heard echoing voices coming from below and a moving light that indicated someone was holding a lantern. The male voice was difficult to make out, but the other was impossible to miss.

"The Princess!" Najiya gasped under his breath, and before Reem could clamp a hand over the boy's mouth, the Grand Vizier had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a spear pointed unwaveringly at the intruders.

"Who goes?" he demanded. Reem shoved Najiya behind him and sheathed his sword, walking into the light.

"Agha Reem?" Siraj al Din lowered his weapon, eyes wide in surprise. "How did you get _in_ here?"

The room was large and chilly, torches illuminating both the vizier, the Princess, and a pedestal in the center of the chamber that was holding a brass hookah. Reem was too distracted by the old pipe to answer Siraj al Din right away. From the hookah came a fiery bluish glow that was licking upwards toward the ceiling like an aggressive flame.

"I'm… I apologize, vizier, I saw a strange door and felt it was my duty to investigate-"

"Did you tell anyone else you were here?" the vizier cut him off, raising the spear again. Reem shook his head.

"No. Only…"

"What _is_ that?!" Najiya exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer. "Why is it _glowing_ like that?"

"The two of you are to leave, _now-_ "

"It's okay," Princess Ghazi said, putting a hand on Siraj al Din's arm. He glanced at her with a fierce expression but lowered his weapon anyway.

"Princess, they _can't_ be here…"

"Really, it's okay," she insisted, and Siraj al Din regarded Ghazi for a long moment before he nodded and backed away, allowing the men into the room.

Reem was hesitant even with the permission of the Princess, but Najiya bounded past him and hurriedly approached the pedestal.

"What is this thing? Is this some kind of magick?" Najiya asked excitedly, stretching a hand toward the pipe.

"Don't touch it," Siraj al Din instructed, and Najiya quickly dropped his hand, "It's protected by something. It can't be interacted with."

"So it _is_ magick!" Najiya squealed in delight. "I can't believe it!"

Reem stared hard at the pipe with arms crossed disapprovingly over his chest. He had never in his adult life considered magick of any form to be real, but what he saw before him was hard to explain away with any kind of theory or natural cause. It reminded him of the words written by his younger self, words about a palace rising majestically from the sands, something he thought had come to him in a dream.

Carefully he approached, holding his chin thoughtfully as he bent close enough to inspect it. "Fascinating… But, what is it? Why is it here?" he asked no one in particular.

Siraj al Din appeared at Reem's side, startling him out of his stupor.

"We don't know what it is, or why it's behaving this way. But as far as I know, it's only burned like this _twice_. And both times, that man called Haru was here in the palace."

Both Reem and Najiya looked away from the hookah and stared at the vizier with an identical expression of surprise. Najiya was the first to find his voice.

"Haru? You mean, a few days ago when he was here...?"

"Yes," Siraj al Din answered, stepping closer to the pedestal. "That was the first time I saw it behave this way. But today, it's even worse."

"What could _Haru_ have to do with this?" Reem asked.

"We aren't sure," Ghazi sighed heavily. "But I'm certain he's connected, and whatever this object is, it's affecting my brother. It _has_ to be."

She turned to Reem and Najiya, every inch of her exuding royalty in a way that rarely befit her. Reem had the insane urge to bow, but resisted.

"I insist that you tell me everything you know about the man called Haru. If he has anything to do with my brother, I need to know immediately. No lies, and I promise no harm will come to him. I just want to know who he is, that's all."

Najiya touched Reem's arm gently, shooting him a defeated look.

Reem deciphered Najiya's meaning and nodded. "I promise you that we don't know much more than you do, Princess… But given the circumstances, I'll tell you everything I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We already know that Hafa means ' _gentle rain_ '. The addition to his name, ' _ma_ ', means simply water, so altogether Hafa'ma means _gentle rain water_. The translation is probably totally wrong but I thought it was cool so I went with it. :p


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makarim takes advice from a camel, Sharik does something terrible in Rim's place, and Reem becomes a renegade.

The better part of an hour passed by before Aini heard the sound of Rim's door opening.

He glanced warily around the corner expecting to see either Rim or Haru emerge, but instead he saw a small group of soldiers dressed in thick black and grey uniforms being allowed into the room, all sporting large golden shields that bore a strange insignia Aini had never seen before. Unsure of what to make of the intimidating strangers, Aini waited out of sight until he saw the door open once again, the four men carrying something between them that was wrapped in bloodied sheets.

Aini felt the bottom of his stomach ice over as a limp arm dropped from the tangle of sheets, and a soldier hastily shoved it back in with a startling lack of empathy. Sliding a hand over his own mouth to muffle a cry of horror, Aini watched on as Rim spoke with the men. From this distance, Aini only managed to make out the last of Rim's instructions.

"...just make sure it's far from here. Dump him on the sands and leave him quickly. Ride with haste."

The men got a firmer grip on the object they were carrying and disappeared down the hall. Rim returned to his room, and Aini sat in the shadows against the wall for several moments, focusing on returning his heart-beat to a healthy rhythm and trying not to panic. It couldn't be possible, could it? Rim had changed over the years, certainly, and sometimes Aini questioned his new moral code, but he had never thought the Prince capable of cold-blooded _murder_.

Voices and the nervous whinnying of horses floated from the large open window at the end of the hall, drawing Aini's attention. He collected himself to the best of his ability and hurried to the window, glancing out at the night. The men had mounted palace horses and were riding out into the sand dunes, the body-shaped mess of sheets and blood tied securely to the back of one of the animals. Aini felt sick watching them go.

He had led Haru to his death, and he didn't even know _why_.

Aini returned to waiting. It was another fifteen minutes before Rim's door opened again, and this time he was alone as he started walking indolently in the direction of the party hall. Aini started after him, fighting the nervous hesitance that had him trembling as he went.

"Prince Rim!" Aini called, and Rim stopped, turned, and stared at Aini mutely.

The dark aura was stronger than it ever had been, stronger than Haru's, and it no longer resembled a shadow. Rim seemed to exude it, like it was inside of him, engulfing him from within and threatening to rip him apart. Aini lost his voice, the oppressive presence terrifying him and draining him simultaneously.

"What is it?" Rim asked curtly, frowning at the prolonged silence.

Aini pulled himself together as much as he could. "I, uhh… Is everything alright?"

"Of course," Rim answered easily, resting a hand on his hip. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… Where is Haru?" Aini asked.

Rim appeared to smile. "Such an inappropriate question." he tutted. "I don't believe it's any of your business what I do with my consorts, is it?"

Anger rose in Aini's throat, making it difficult to choke out words. "I'm not just some palace servant, Rim!" he exclaimed hotly, causing Rim's smug smile to dissolve into a burning glare, "It's _me_! We've been friends since forever, and we've been... _more than that_..." he shook his head angrily, tears beginning to cloud his vision. "Stop talking to me like you barely know me!"

"You're out of line," Rim snapped dangerously, and Aini knew he was, but he didn't care.

"Where's Haru, Rim? _What did you do_?"

"I don't have time for this. It's almost time for the toast, and it can't begin without me. Go to your quarters, and _stay there_." Rim hissed, and turned away.

Common sense be damned, Aini sprung forward and grabbed Rim's wrist tightly. "Stop dismissing me! Rim, just _answer me_ …"

Rim ripped away from Aini's grip and backhanded him. The force of it sent Aini crashing to the ground, his mouth throbbing from the sting of Rim's knuckles, the metallic taste of blood coating his bottom row of teeth.

"You're lucky that there's _any_ affection left for you, or I would have you dealt with in the most severe manner available, you _wretch_ ," Rim hissed, swinging his dark cloak behind him as he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Aini stared after him, struggling to sit up, wiping tears and blood away as the realization sunk in.

Rim was gone.

Whatever dark entity now walked in his place had completely devoured him, leaving nothing behind.

.

.

.

Siraj al Din double and triple checked the entrance to the underground room, making absolutely sure that it would not be so easily opened again.

"You're _positive_ that he didn't say anything about having met my brother before?" Ghazi asked Reem and Najiya as they congregated just outside of the secret door panel that the vizier was busy securing.

Reem chose to answer first. "Like I said, he only seemed interested in the water. He seems convinced that the water is not meant to be here, and his sole desire was to talk to the Prince about it himself."

"Haru _was_ really just focused on the water," Najiya added. "it's all he cared about."

Ghazi sighed irritatedly. "I understand all of that, but…. Agha Reem, how could you have let a stranger such as that into this palace under false pretenses? He could be _anyone-_ "

"Reem would _never_ let anyone in the palace that he couldn't trust!" Najiya said, practically stepping in front of Reem as a protective reflex. Reem laid a hand firmly on his shoulder, surprised that Najiya felt strongly enough to talk back to royalty.

"Najiya! Princess Ghazi-"

"Ghaz _wa_!"

"-is right, I was out of line. I should have explained myself to her before taking matters into my own hands. I will accept whatever punishment is found appropriate."

Najiya stared at Reem dolefully. "But..."

Ghazi sighed again, more pronounced than before, and both men fell silent. "No one is being punished," she said, crossing her arms. "You were trying to help. If anyone wants to know what's afflicting my brother, it's me. I don't believe my brother is in any danger. Your friend, however…"

Siraj al Din had been listening quietly, but chose now to interrupt. "We all want the best for Prince Rim. Obviously there could have been a better way of going about it, but for now, we can't change what's been done. And I might add, we have barely any information to go off of. We don't even know who this Haru person really _is_. When he and the Prince are-" he paused, searching for the most appropriate word, " _-finished_ , we shall have to speak with him and see what else he knows."

Najiya wasn't sure that Haru would cooperate with them, but he knew that there was no other way. He wondered if telling Haru about the strange glowing pipe was included in the list of items the Princess would be talking to him about.

"For now, I must excuse myself. I believe I'm already running late, and I doubt the Prince will fail to notice." the vizier said, and Ghazi frowned.

"The toast?" she asked. "Rim told me not to attend. I tried to ask him why, but he wouldn't give me a reason."

The Grand Vizier sighed. "The Prince doesn't offer many reasons as of late. But don't worry, it's bound to be the most boring bit of the evening. I doubt most of the guests will even be able to hold up their glasses." He nodded to them all politely and turned to leave. "Agha Reem, I'm leaving Princess Ghaz-" he could feel the glare burning him from behind, "Ghaz _wa_ in your care, for now. I don't believe the Prince will notice if one of his officers is not present."

"And _why_ exactly do you think I need a chaperone?" Ghazi demanded before Reem could even open his mouth to comply.

Siraj al Din started down the hall, robes billowing. "There is a thick tension in the air. I would prefer all those who may know too much to stick together until we get to the bottom of things." Not leaving any room for argument, Siraj al Din was around the corner and gone.

"Hey," Najiya said, flashing Ghazi a reassuring smile, "he's right, you know. It's kind of like a secret club, for people who have gone down the creepy mystery stairs!"

"Najiya, you shouldn't make light of this! You need to take this more seriously."

"W _aaaa_ h? I'm taking this _plenty_ seriously! Secret clubs are serious business too, you know."

Despite her hesitence with the entire situation, Ghazi felt a tug at the corner of her mouth. "He has a point, though. We really should all stick together for now." She shot the two men a suspicious glare and cocked her hip, arms crossed over her chest. "What _were_ the two of you doing when you happened to stumble upon the door, anyway?" she asked teasingly, Reem immediately turning a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Najiya grinned cheekily and opened his mouth to respond when he noticed a figure emerge from around the corner of the hall, looking distinctly tousled and a little worse for wear. Ghazi noticed him at the same moment.

"Aini?" Ghazi called, and for a moment, Aini barely registered that he was being addressed. He stopped walking, glancing at the small company with wide eyes. Najiya was the first to notice his bleeding lip, and both he and Ghazi rushed to the silver-haired young man, Reem trailing closely behind.

"What happened?" Ghazi exclaimed, as Najiya hastily pulled a cloth from a pocket in his harem pants and began to gently dab Aini's split lip. "Are you okay?"

Aini still seemed to be in a haze, but he rapidly resurfaced as Ghazi spoke to him. "Yes, I'm fine… Don't worry about it, really," he said to Najiya, but the blonde shot Aini a prominent frown.

"Your lip is busted open, don't tell us not to worry," Najiya pointed out.

Aini looked almost as if he could cry. He gently pushed Najiya's hand away. "That man, Haru… Was he a friend of yours?" Aini asked, and Najiya dropped his hand, eyes wide with a bubbling fear.

"Why do you say 'was'?" Reem asked, stepping up next to Najiya.

The concubine shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm _so_ sorry," he choked out, voice barely above a whisper, "he's dead."

Najiya took a step back, and Reem grasped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"He's _dead_? How? Who administered an execution on such short notice?" Reem demanded, unbelieving. He had known it was a possibility, of course, but Reem was the type to observe every possible variable, no matter how unlikely. It was never supposed to have actually _happened_. It had been no more than a worst case scenario.

Aini turned his attention to Ghazi, and the emotion in his eyes and his split lip told her everything she needed to know. "It was Rim. I don't know why, or how it happened… But I saw men take Haru's body out of his _room_. Rim told them to dump the body on the sand dunes. There was no execution or jail time or any of that. He just… _Killed_ him."

"Rim? But…" Ghazi felt light-headed. It seemed like something out of a bad dream, something surreal that couldn't be true. Her brother was many things, but he wasn't a murderer.

"The _Prince_ killed Haru?" Najiya said, tears beginning to well. This was the second time he'd had to mourn his new friend, except this time he didn't suppose Haru would be coming back as miraculously as before.

"It wasn't Rim," Aini continued. "It's not Rim anymore. I know you were skeptical about it… But I saw something _in_ him when I tried to talk to him. It's the thing that's always been there, but it's like it's… _Moved into him_."

The other three went deathly silent. They were all thinking of the same thing; the glowing hookah that was currently blazing with an other-worldly light just beneath their feet.

Aini rubbed his arm awkwardly, feeling dreadful for having to have been the bearer of such news. He glanced at Najiya with a pitiable air. "Did you… Know? About Haru?" he asked, and Najiya sniffled back tears and rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm.

"What about Haru?"

"That he… Well… That he wasn't entirely _human_?"

An hour ago, the idea of Haru being anything other than human would have been a difficult prospect to swallow, but after seeing what they'd seen, both Najiya and Reem were more than willing to explore the possibility.

"Not human?" Reem repeated, his tone far from unbelieving but appropriately hesitant, "how so?"

Najiya absently handed Aini the cloth he had been using to clean up his cut, and Aini gratefully took it and pressed the material to his mouth. He winced at the contact. "We had words on the way to Rim's quarters. He had an aura of brilliant blue, I could barely stand to be around it… And he knew about Rim. He knew there was something _following_ him. I'm sorry I don't know more than that…"

Ghazi pressed her lips together, concealing her surprise as best she could. She could feel the intense gazes of both Najiya and Reem on her, both silently demanding that she tell Aini about the object underneath them.

Breaking the stare and temporarily relieving Ghazi the pressure of decision-making, Najiya gasped, startling everyone out of their respective thoughts. "Reem!" he turned to Reem and grabbed the man's arms tightly, his eyes bright with re-kindled hope. "Remember when we met? Those mean guards in the city told me that Haru had been executed! When I saw him here in the palace, I just assumed they'd been lying to me. What if they weren't? What if they killed him and he just _can't die_?" he exclaimed.

Reem looked at Najiya as one might look at a child who is about to get their dreams tragically stomped on. "I really don't think we should be counting on something like that… Perhaps we should just accept what happened…?" he suggested. Najiya shook his head adamantly.

"No, it makes sense! Haru was so fearless, even when you told him about all the risks. I tried to warn him, too, the day I met him in the city, but it was like prison and death were a concept he didn't understand. Or at least, he wasn't afraid of them."

Rubbing a knuckle thoughtfully against his chin, Reem was subdued by Najiya's words. "I suppose he _did_ have an unnatural fixation on the water, as well. And he even seemed to know what the water was _feeling._ And you're right, he certainly held no fear, even after my warnings _-_ "

"Listen, I know what I said might have given you hope," Aini interjected worriedly, "but that really wasn't my intention. Human or not, I saw them carry a _body_ out of that room. There was enough blood to-"

"No really, you didn't know him as long as we did! He was a really fearless guy! It just sort of makes sense!"

"Najiya, we _barely_ knew him at all-"

"Wait, everyone _shut up_ for a second!" Ghazi inserted, putting her hands out as a means of silencing the company. As if her words held a power of their own, all three men ceased talking and turned their attention to her without question.

"Aini," she glanced at her friend and he lowered the cloth from his mouth, "Are you certain about this? You're sure that Haru wasn't human? And you're _sure_ that he knew things about my brother?"

Aini sucked absently at the wound on his bottom lip and nodded. Najiya and Reem joined him in agreement, still wary about saying anything out loud.

Ghazi closed her eyes and paused for a long moment in what seemed like resolute concentration. Finally, she nodded, having come to a decision. "In that case, there's something we need to tell you before we figure out what exactly to do."

.

.

.

It was an unusually quiet night.

Makarim was sitting on the steps by the back door of the shop, elbow resting on his knee and a hand cradling his chin. His other hand was fondly petting a white dog as it alternated between licking his hand and eating the food that Makarim had placed in her bowl. Makarim ceased his petting and allowed the dog to eat in peace.

When the lovable stray had first begun to show up around his shop, Makarim had worried that the canine's presence would scare away the cats that he fed, but the dog seemed oblivious to the cats and even tended to shy away from them when it was their turn to eat. Because of this, the cats Lorded over the dog shamelessly, and were known to even steal the poor things' food if Makarim wasn't around to usher them back to their own bowls. Nasuh, he had named her.

Absently and perhaps a bit neurotically, Makarim fingered the iron band that constantly adorned his middle finger as he reflected on the night's dinner conversation. Although he was always grateful for the company of his younger siblings, he was wearily glad that he had taken a moment to step outside while they finished clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen.

On several occasions during dinner, either Rani or Ru'a had mentioned Haru in between bites of food. Each time Makarim had tried to gently push the conversation in a different direction, but it would almost always swerve back around.

"Remember when Haru didn't know how to use a broom, and I showed him how? Who doesn't know how to sweep a floor?"

"Ooh, or how Haru didn't know what a walnut tasted like? It took us hours to convince him to try one!"

"How long is Haru going to be gone, big brother?"

"He's coming back, right?"

Makarim hated keeping so much from the twins, but there was simply no way to explain to them what was going on. He assured them that Haru was going to try his best to return as quickly as possible and then skillfully switched the topic by quizzing them on their letters. As the twins were always eager to prove to their older brother which one of them was more clever, dinner quickly erupted into a battle of alphabet knowledge. Ru'a won simply by being able to write _and_ speak one more letter than her brother, who accepted defeat by suddenly becoming much more interested in eating his previously ignored food and grumpily urging everyone to do the same. He knew as well as Makarim did that Ru'a had earned bragging rights for the remainder of the evening, and Ru'a was not in the habit of being modest.

The moon shone brightly over the city, the clear night showing off the glowing orb to its best advantage and casting more light than was usual. Makarim was lost in his thoughts as he stared at it, unable to calm his mind. Had Haru managed to talk to the Prince? Did he get an opportunity to see the water? Or did the Prince have him thrown in prison for jumping into the first body of water that Haru saw? These thoughts and ideas were pressing on his mind, unrelenting, and no matter what Makarim did he couldn't seem to stop his imagination.

He heaved a massive sigh, the swell of it stretching the fabric of his thawb taut against his chest. He released the breath, steady and with closed eyes, trying his best to stop worrying so much. Haru was fine. He could handle himself, and as Haru had pointed out several times, he couldn't die.

Still, Makarim found little comfort in that fact. There was still so much he didn't know, so much that Haru didn't seem to _want_ him to know, and his uncertainty was the driving force behind his stress.

A strange sound caught Makarim's attention, a sort of distant groaning, and before he could even begin to guess at the source Rani and Ru'a were throwing the back door open, both of them looking mildly shaken. Makarim was on his feet in an instant.

"What's wrong?"

Ru'a looked vaguely guilty. "We swear we didn't do anything-!"

"Haru's camel! We went out to feed him and-"

"She just got all crazy, she won't eat her food-"

"It's a he!"

"No, it's a _she_!"

" _He_! I already named him a boy's name! Haru said I could!"

" _Hey_!" Makarim interrupted firmly, "Argue about that later! What's happening to Haru's camel?"

Rani spoke first. "He's freaking out, like something spooked him! He's pulling and making all sorts of weird noises."

" _She_!" Ru'a hissed.

Makarim gently pushed past his siblings and hurried through the shop, exiting through the front door. Immediately he saw what the twins described; Haru's camel was stomping and pulling desperately against the rope that had him hitched to the side of the building, the grunts and roars loud enough to wake the entire street. Makarim never remembered seeing a camel this upset.

"Hey, it's okay! _Easy_! Everything's fine! Just _calm down_..." Boldly stepping in front of the animal, Makarim put out his hands in an effort to communicate his words. He wasn't sure if he would even be noticed considering how wound up the animal was, but slowly the camel's cries faded into disgruntled snorts, and it ceased stomping.

"We told you!" Rani's voice chimed from the doorway, and Makarim held out a hand, signaling the twins to come no closer. The animal was still yanking at the rope, obviously agitated, and Makarim carefully approached, extending a hand to the animal's snout. His fingers made contact with the warm snout, and all at once the camel seemed to relax under his touch. Makarim let out a relieved sigh.

"What's got you so worked up?" Makarim asked quietly. He stroked the animal's nose calmingly as the creature's head jerked in the direction of the east exit and he pulled again at the rope. Makarim followed the animal's gaze, and for reasons he couldn't explain, his stomach tightened in worry. Although he felt ridiculous, Makarim inched a bit closer.

"Is it… Haru? Is there something wrong with Haru?" he whispered, hoping desperately that his siblings couldn't hear him questioning a camel. To his surprise, the camel grunted and pulled more enthusiastically at the rope, letting out a loud whine.

Makarim wasn't quite sure what to do. He was dangerously close to taking the advice of a camel, and he knew that that was a whole new brand of crazy. He knew that it was incredibly likely that he was projecting his own worries onto this creature's actions, but he couldn't help but feel strongly that there was something very wrong.

"Can you take me to him?" Makarim whispered, and this time he was rewarded with an excitable head-shake and grunt that seemed so eerily human it caused him to question his sanity.

"Is she okay now?" Ru'a asked from behind Makarim, causing the man to hop in surprise. He turned to the twins with a nervous smile, hoping they hadn't overheard any of his one-sided exchange.

"Uhh… Yes, I think he- Err, she? is fine now…" Makarim said, his mind churning with a plan of action. He knelt in front of the twins and placed a hand on both of their shoulders. "Listen… I need to go somewhere, okay? I want you both to go back to father's house. I might not be back before it's time to open shop, so if I'm not here in the morning, you two know how to get everything ready for the day, right? You just bring the tables out, open up the windows-"

"We know how to open shop, but… Why are you leaving so late, big brother?" Ru'a asked, linking her smaller hands around Makarim's wrist earnestly.

"How come you don't know when you'll be back?" Rani followed seriously. "Is it Haru? Is something wrong, like a few days ago when you left?"

Makarim felt a surge of guilt for making his siblings worry. He struggled for several moments about how much to tell them, and finally he sighed in defeat. "Yes, it's Haru," he admitted. "I don't think anything's wrong, but I'm going to go try and look for him. He's still new around here, right? I don't want him getting lost."

Both Rani and Ru'a seemed to accept Makarim's words with relative ease, and after giving them both massive hugs, he walked them home. Their family house was not far from the shop, so Makarim was back in mere minutes, his father having been thankfully asleep and therefore not able to chastise him for possibly leaving the shop to the twins twice in one week.

Haru's camel welcomed him back with an impatient groan and a vain yank at the rope. Makarim unloaded the camel, putting all of Haru's belongings carefully inside the shop save for the blankets and the sand tent that was bundled up tight, which he left alone, as he figured they might be needed. He packed his own bags with everything he could think of that might be useful; food, water, medical supplies, and other odds and ends that he found lying around as he haphazardly searched his living quarters for supplies.

Once he had loaded everything up and closed and locked the front door, he finally obliged the over-zealous creature and untied the rope. The camel started off at once at a brisk pace, and Makarim kept a firm grip on the animal's head harness in order to keep up.

As he predicted, Haru's camel was heading unfalteringly toward the city's east exit. His stomach in knots, Makarim allowed the animal to guide him to wherever it was they were going.

He promised himself that he would take a good long look at his sanity _after_ making absolutely sure everything was alright.

.

.

.

"Today is a day that will live in history, for as long as our kingdoms stand and our descendants live on, they will speak of this day as the day that peace and prosperity bound us together and led us forward into a new age." Prince Rim's voice rang as Siraj al Din quietly let himself into the party hall, perhaps a tad late. The Prince barely tossed him a sideways glance, and continued his speech.

The delegates and their attendants were standing with an alarming lack of unsteadiness, all very focused on Prince Rim, forming a rough oval shape which was bowing away from the Prince who was seated at his black chair, wine glass held high.

Siraj al Din paused. A servant appeared at his side and shoved a wine glass into his hands, and he mechanically raised it as he stared at the curious line of men standing just behind the Prince.

Their uniforms were black and gray and made of very fine material, red sashes around their waists and light armor adorning their shoulders. They were armed with spears and gleaming golden shields marked with a strange insignia resembling a row of shark teeth. Some of the men were soldiers employed at the palace, but just as many were strangers to him. Siraj al Din was usually in charge of promoting soldiers and organizing duties, so the change took him off guard. The men he _did_ recognize, on top of everything else, were soldiers of particular unscrupulousness, men that he would never have considered for a higher-ranking position. As soon as the toast was done and the pleasantries were taken care of, he intended to question the Prince at length about this new employment.

"We drink tonight not just as allies or business partners, but as friends," Prince Rim continued resolutely, garnering murmured agreement among his audience, "and I consider myself proud to drink alongside friends. To the prosperity of our kingdoms!" His speech at an end, the Prince brought the glass to his lips and tossed his head back, eagerly downing the contents. The guests enthusiastically followed his lead.

Siraj al Din drank his wine, relieved that the evening was almost over. It had been exhausting keeping everyone in line, and since company was never kept in the palace anymore, the amount of people present had been overwhelming. He also had plans to seek out the man called Haru and question him extensively, but that could wait until after he'd spoken to the Prince.

A cough disturbed the silence. Several coughs, in fact, and the vizier was pulled out of his thoughts to see the guests sputtering and gagging, wine glasses dropped and shattering, men crumpling to the floor in heaving masses.

Alarmed, Siraj al Din rushed to the man closest him and placed a hand on his back. "What's happening?" he demanded, eyes sweeping up at the Prince and his line of intimidating soldiers, all of whom remained stationary despite the urgency of the scene. "Don't just stand there, help them!"

"There isn't much to be done," the Prince said lazily, finishing off his wine with a satisfied sigh. "There's no cure for hemlock poisoning. I spiked their drinks with three times the recommended dose, so I imagine they'll be dead relatively quickly."

Siraj al Din stared at the Prince unbelievingly until the dying man in front of him began to vomit, loudly and forcefully, and the vizier was forced to back away, realizing there was nothing he could do for any of them. By this time, their bodies were fully revolting against them, and most were vomiting or collapsing into convulsions. Siraj al Din felt his own stomach turn and twist with the threat of sickness, and a wild fear gripped him.

"Don't worry, I didn't poison _you_ ," the Prince laughed, having caught the vizier's expression the moment the color had drained from his face. One of the guests reached shakily for Rim, murmuring curses in between gasps for air, and the Prince kicked the man away in disgust. "I don't have any immediate plans to kill you."

Siraj al Din wasn't sure what to do. The men weren't yet dead but the deed was already done, and there was no stopping it or saving anyone. This sort of crime was unreal, even considering how cold the Prince had become in recent years, and the possibilities that now loomed over them were staggeringly grim.

"Prince Rim, _what have you done_?" the vizier asked incredulously. " _Why_ did you…? We could have had _peace-_ "

"Peace is boring," the Prince drawled, moving away from the cluster of groaning men, a few of his black-clad soldiers immediately flanking him as he approached the vizier. "By the way, what do you think of them?" he asked, gesturing toward the strangely-dressed soldiers. "I call them the Holy Guard. They will help lead our kingdom into a new future, and I was counting on _you_ as their General. What do you say?"

Amber eyes flashed dangerously, and a fury that Siraj al Din had never known bubbled and coursed through him like a rampaging current. He advanced on the Prince, meaning to grab him and throttle him, but he was quickly and effectively halted by the Holy Guard. They held his arms and shoulders firmly, but he barely noticed them there, fighting against them furiously.

"You've killed _dozens_ of the most important people from _three_ of our neighboring kingdoms, who were sent here on a _mission of peace_!" Siraj al Din yelled, still struggling with the soldiers and nearly throwing one off of him. "There will be _war_! There _is_ no future for us! You've committed an act so heinous, there won't be a man, woman or child in the _East_ that doesn't hear of our treachery!"

"I hope so. I _dare_ them to bring war to my doorstep." Rim spat acidly, his features alight with mischief. "Very soon I'll have everything I need to bring every one of them to their knees, begging me for mercy. And I will rule as I please."

The Prince's unsettling confidence was what shook Siraj al Din the most. While normally the idea that a single man could possess the power to bring down armies was ridiculous, Siraj al Din knew that there was more at work here than he could understand.

The prod of a spear against his side. Siraj al Din tensed, furious but unable to act without ensuring a quick demise for himself. He glared daggers at the Prince. "You're not the same Prince I knew."

"Perhaps I'm not," Prince Rim said with a grin.

"What you're doing is revolting. I'll have no part in it."

"It sounds to me like you're turning down my offer." the Prince sighed, Siraj al Din's gaze unwavering and resolute. Motioning to his Holy Guard, two spears pointed at the vizier as his hands were wrenched behind his back and bound in shackles. Siraj al Din couldn't help but be surprised that he wasn't being killed on the spot, although he knew the possibility was still very real. It was best not to push his luck, he decided, so he did nothing to fight against his captors. He needed to stay rational.

"I'll give you some time to think it over. Take him away."

Siraj al Din glanced one last time at the tangle of dying men that were going ignored, a silent apology for the horrors they were enduring before he was led to the doors and forcefully pushed out.

.

.

.

He felt terrible for leaving without telling Reem.

Najiya pulled his cloak a little more tightly around himself and did well to muffle his footsteps as he went. The torches on the walls had long fizzled out and now illuminated the hall with dimly glowing embers. It was the perfect time to attempt to sneak out, and Najiya kept himself focused as he tried to remember the way to the garden door, the door that Reem had admitted was never very well-guarded. The palace was unnecessarily gigantic, and Najiya had already been turned around more times than he could count. He suspected that by the time he actually managed to _find_ the elusive door, morning would be peeking on the horizon.

He stumbled upon a familiar string of hallways and referred to the memory of Reem leading Haru, Makarim and himself several days prior to remember which way to go. To his utter relief, his memory was faithful enough to get him to his destination without any trouble, and thankfully he hadn't run into any palace staff along the way.

He approached the door, praying it wasn't locked. He heard something move in the shadows to his left, and Najiya had to stifle a terrified yelp as he saw a figure emerge.

"It's just me," came Reem's voice, quiet but earnest, and Najiya lowered his hand from his mouth, his chest fit to burst from the fright and the unexpected relief that followed.

"Reem! What are you doing here?"

Reem looked somewhat abashed, and the guilt that Najiya had been struggling to squash rose up once again to make his throat clench painfully. "I was worried," he admitted, frowning, "when you didn't show up at the usual time. I realized you might be thinking about Haru, and if he was still alive… So I thought you'd left."

Najiya felt almost like he could cry. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, probably louder than was needed. "I should have told you what I was doing, so-"

"What you do is your business." Reem replied gently, genuinely.

"No, _really_. I didn't want you to get in any trouble, Reem. If I told you I was leaving, you would have tried to stop me, probably. And even if you didn't… I just figured either way it would be trouble for you."

Even in the darkness, Najiya could faintly make out a half-smile pulling at Reem's mouth. "You've been nothing but trouble ever since I met you. It wouldn't have exactly been a change," he said, and Najiya felt an explosion of relief. Bouncing on his heels, he sprung forward and threw his arms around Reem's neck, hugging him fiercely. Reem slowly reciprocated, arms circling around Najiya's waist to keep him close.

"You're not mad at me, then?"

Reem sighed. "No. I just wish you could have felt more comfortable letting me know what you were up to." One of the dying torches on the wall finally snuffed itself out, the last of the embers falling to the ground and fading to nothing. A window high above them allowed just enough moonlight to ensure that the two men weren't standing in complete darkness.

"You were going out to look for Haru, right?" Reem asked, dangerously close to losing himself in Najiya's warmth. The two separated, but Najiya grabbed Reem's wrists before his hands could leave his waist, locking him in place.

"Yep," Najiya replied, grinning. "I know it's a long shot, but I just have a feeling he's out there. And even if he isn't…" His smile melted. He didn't want to think about the alternative, really, but he didn't have a choice. "I can't work for a man like that. I'd rather be back out on the streets."

Reem's lips pressed together into a thin line. "There's more wrong than you know."

"Like…?"

"The party hall was absolutely locked down. Princess Ghazi and I attempted to rejoin the Grand Vizier, but we were not allowed inside, and no one could tell us where the vizier was. Later I was told that something was wrong with the wine, and the guests had all become ill, but…"

Najiya's eyes were large. "But?"

"Well, you don't exactly see any physicians running around, do you?" Reem said. "I _still_ haven't heard anything of vizier Siraj al Din, and the guests are just... _Missing_. Furthermore, there appears to be a brand new rank hired by the Prince. They're calling themselves the 'Holy Guard'."

"The men with the shiny shields? I saw a few of them earlier, they looked like they were the Prince's personal troop or something."

Reem nodded. "No matter how you look at it, things are escalating. We have to explore the possibility that the Prince has committed an act of war."

Najiya's brows drew together in worry. "Maybe Aini was right. What if the Prince is possessed by something? What the hell are we supposed to do?"

"Well," Reem said authoritatively, "finding Haru seems to be the best option. So, as long as you aren't against it, I'd like to go with you to find him."

Najiya gasped dramatically. "You're leaving your station! Abandoning your post! You'll become an enemy of the kingdom!"

"Calm down!" Reem huffed, gripping Najiya's hips a little more tightly. "I didn't say I was _abandoning_ anything! If Prince Rim really _is_ possessed by something nefarious, then there's nothing to be done about that. Do you really think I could follow the orders of a madman pushing for a war? I worked hard for this position so that I could be of use to the kingdom. I refuse to blindly follow orders anymore."

"Are you seriously sure about this? What if they hunt you down and arrest you?" Najiya asked, his voice thick with worry.

"If Prince Rim has indeed murdered all of our guests tonight, I don't think one officer leaving the palace without permission will be on his list of immediate concerns." Reem pointed out. "Besides, I'm willing to risk it if it will help make sense of everything that's happening. Haru is our only lead."

Najiya nodded. "What about the Princess? Will she be okay? The vizier left her in your care, right?"

"Princess Ghazi agrees that finding Haru, if he's still alive, is our best option at this point. Aini thinks this too, especially after we told him about the allegedly cursed pipe." Reem said, moving to the door and sliding his key into the lock, hearing the familiar click of metal. He pushed the door open. "The Princess assured me that she would be fine. She's going to try to get answers from the Prince in her own way."

"So it's almost like you have royal permission?" Najiya asked hopefully. He followed Reem through the door, glancing back only once to make sure no one was around before quietly shutting it. The brisk night air hit him, chilling his skin and causing him to pull his cloak more tightly around himself.

"Even with the Princess's blessing, it goes against the Prince's orders." Reem pointed out.

"I guess. So, where to first?" Najiya asked quietly, as Reem checked for guards. "Aini said the Prince ordered Haru to be dumped out there," he jabbed a finger in the direction of the endless desert that lay behind the palace, "but wandering around on the sand dunes doesn't seem like a great idea, right?"

"What were you planning on doing if I _wasn't_ coming along?" Reem asked. Najiya looked up at the sky in thought.

"I didn't really _have_ a plan," he admitted, and Reem groaned, " _but_ , I was thinking that finding Makarim might be a good place to start. He seemed to know a lot about Haru, they seemed to be close."

Reem considered his, hands on his hips, and finally he nodded. "That sounds good. Even if we can't find Haru right away, Makarim might be able to give us some insight." He turned and started toward the stone steps. "Let's go."

Najiya stayed rooted to the spot, hands clutched at his cloak. "Reem!"

As usual, his voice halted Reem as if by an invisible hand. Then there was a real hand grabbing his own, pulling at his arm urgently, and Najiya was looking up at him with bright eyes that were catching the moonlight at the most beautiful angle.

"Thank you for… _Everything_. For helping me on the streets and for taking me back here with you. And for everything else, too. I know that you're coming with me to help protect the kingdom and to do what you think needs to be done, but I'm still really glad you're coming with me. I'm glad that I'm not alone."

Reem felt himself blush. His finely-tuned business exterior melted, and he was reminded of their unexpected moment in the hallway earlier. Without thinking he pressed his mouth against Najiya's, letting his lips linger sweetly before pulling away. Najiya's expression was sufficiently surprised at the gesture, and Reem couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not coming along just for the kingdom," he said, touching the side of Najiya's face, his fingers warm against cooled skin. Soft blonde hair brushed against his knuckles as he slid his fingers just behind Najiya's ear to the curve of his neck. "I have to admit that I'm being selfish. I want to go where you go. Being around you seems to cloud my judgement."

Najiya tittered warmly. "Well, I like it when you're selfish." he said. For fear of falling into temptation and starting something that both of them knew they couldn't finish, Najiya grabbed Reem's wrist again and tugged him to the stairs. "Come on, I know where Makarim sells his wares! If we're quick, we should be there by morning!"

.

.

.

The sand blew aggressively and Makarim covered his face with his sleeve. He was glad that he brought the sand tent, because it looked distinctly like there might be a sandstorm, and Haru's camel was moving at a much brisker pace than before. Makarim was worried that he'd have to set up the tent before he'd found whatever it is they're looking for, which by this point, might be nothing at all. His worry is that Haru _is_ out here somewhere, and that he would have to suffer something like a sandstorm alone and without protection.

A small whirlwind whipped up and obscured Makarim's field of vision, making it difficult to discern which way he was heading. Although the camel didn't seem fazed, Makarim halted him anyway, waiting for the sand to clear.

When he lowered his arm, there was something on the dunes that hadn't been there a moment ago. It was hard to make out and small on the horizon, but it appeared to be another camel, colored white, silhouette rippling with the heat of the morning sun. Haru's camel let out a low bellow and surged forward, nearly yanking Makarim's arm from it's socket before Makarim willed his own feet to move and keep up with the eager animal. The white camel seemed to turn away from them and vanished just as quickly.

For several minutes, Makarim found himself following the form of the white camel as it appeared over and over, always far out of reach, and always disappearing once they were on the right track. Makarim could vaguely recall his grandfather telling him about djinns called Jann, who could shapeshift and often took the form of white camels, leading travelers either to safety or doom, depending on their mood. Makarim tried not to think too hard on that.

The wind picked up once more, and Makarim shielded his face. Haru's camel was making an absolute fuss, and with an incredible lunge he pulled away from Makarim's grip.

"Wait!" Makarim yelled, terrified, unable to see as the sand whipped around him. When finally it died down, Makarim looked up to see Haru's camel a few yards away, laying next to something limp and half-covered in sand.

A cold rush of fear washed over Makarim, his stomach tightening into a painful lump. Before he could think twice he was in a full sprint toward the bloodied body.

" _HARU_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I got to include the little white dog from the ED! I had been waiting for the right moment -3-
> 
> The Holy Guard are a reference to the newest official Arabian AU art that KyoAni released. (The outfits that Nitori and Mikoshiba are wearing) I want my fic to be as closely faithful to the world KyoAni has already set up, so they had to be involved somehow! 
> 
> Hafa wasn't in this chapter at all! It felt weird not writing him for so long. At least we're finally getting to the meat of the story! I would say I'm a little more than half-way done with this fic? There's still quite a lot left. Thanks for sticking with me for this long!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sandstorm hits, Reem and Najiya meet the twins, and Hafa and Makarim find themselves in a very dark place.

"For once Nagisa, you had a really useful idea," Rin sighed, slipping deeper into the warm bath water. He, Rei and Makoto were practically shoulder-to-shoulder with their backs resting against the tiled wall, Nagisa in front of them, hanging off the other edge of the bath. Nagisa kicked his feet absently for several seconds before he realized what was implied.

"For _once_?" he whined, as Makoto chuckled at the delay in his reaction, "That's really mean, Rin-chan! I'm always full of useful ideas!"

"I don't know about that," Rin teased.

"I would say your ideas tend to be equal parts good and achingly horrible." Rei interjected, repositioning the towel on his head.

" _Thank_ you, Rei-chan."

"Yeah, not sure that was a compliment, champ," Rin said snarkily.

"Now now," Makoto finally said, just as Nagisa was in the process of sticking his tongue out at Rin, "remember, this is a public bathhouse. We can't make a scene-"

"Relax, Makoto. No one's making a scene. I really meant it, anyway. Stopping by a bathhouse the day before the tournament was a damn good idea. This shit is relaxing." Rin said.

Nagisa giggled and hooked his elbow over the side of the tub. "It really hits the spot, doesn't it?"

Rin raised his arms with a contented sigh and used his hands as a head-rest. He tossed a look over at Haruka, who was in his own sectioned-off part of the bath next to Makoto. "Haru, you're being pretty quiet. You okay over there?"

_Haru. That name again. The name that isn't my name._

Makoto grinned and glanced at Haruka, who was mostly submerged in the water up to his nose. Bubbles floated lazily to the surface of the water as he sat hugging his knees, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

"I think Haru is just enjoying the water right now." he said knowingly. Haruka did nothing to answer either of them, save for slowly blinking, if that could even be considered.

"Haru-chan probably wants to swim free! There isn't any room to swim in a bath house." Nagisa said, floating a little closer to Haruka's area and bumping Makoto's knee under the water.

_Why is it always that name?_

"That's against the rules, anyway," Rei hastily put in, afraid that Nagisa was unintentionally giving Haruka ideas.

"You're talking about him like he's a damn dolphin or something." Rin laughed. "Like he's in captivity. Some _Free Willy_ shit."

"Free Willy?" Rei repeated, confused.

"American movie," Rin explained.

"Isn't that movie about a killer whale?" asked Makoto, pondering.

"But look at him!" Nagisa said in mock-concern, "he really _does_ look like he's in captivity when he's not able to swim around!"

Haruka managed to glare at Nagisa with a sufficient amount of menace without moving from his position, which was fairly impressive in its own right. Nagisa giggled and turned the other way, leaning his elbows against the siding and facing the rest of his friends. "Maybe Haru-chan likes captivity," he said playfully, and Makoto chuckled.

"Or maybe Haruka-sempai just wants peace while he's taking his bath," Rei said sternly, and Nagisa smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, sorry. Hey," Nagisa pointed to the tiled wall behind them. "Did you guys notice?"

At risk of letting their guard down and being splashed by a mischievous blonde, Makoto, Rei and Rin all turned to view the wall. Painted on the tile was a detailed scene of a blazing hot Arabian day, complete with a huge sun spewing orange and red streaks of sunlight that melted into gentler hues as they stretched across the tile. A fantastic, story-book esque palace adorned the background, and behind the palace was the hint of a city, pale buildings peeking out from behind the palace's splendor.

Two characters were standing side-by-side outside the palace walls. The other two characters were farther away from the palace, one looking back at the others as if calling out to them, the other leading a camel far into the desert.

"What about it?" Makoto inquired after they'd all had a decent look.

"Well? Doesn't this theme sort of follow us around?" Nagisa asked. "This _Arabian Nights_ kind of thing?"

"What're you talking about?" Rin inquired, quirking a brow.

"It's become sort of a joke," Makoto explained. "We sometimes see things with this kind of theme when we're out and about."

" _Sometimes_?" Nagisa said, dramatically aghast, and Makoto quickly shh-ed him. Nagisa promptly ignored his efforts. "We see this kind of stuff _all the time_! What about at that club? And the bookstore? Oh, or on the side of that bus! Or the book that guy was reading on the train! And the-"

"We get it, you see a lot of Arabian stuff. Bound to happen, that kind of stuff is sort of popular." Rin said. He grinned. "Why are you so into it, though? There's gotta be some kind of psychological mumbo jumbo goin' on there. Rei, what do you think?"

"Well," Rei started importantly, "I'm sure that Freud would say-"

"No, really, _look_!" Nagisa pointedly interrupted, gesturing at the two figures in the backdrop. "That one really looks like Mako-chan! And that one looks like me." He jabbed his finger at the next figure. " _That_ one looks way too much like Rei-chan to be normal, and _that_ one-" Here, Nagisa's finger moved to the figure with the camel, and Haruka was actually looking this time, "is the _spitting image_ of Haru-chan! Don't you think so?"

"He does have a point," Makoto mused, flashing a smile in Haruka's direction, surprised that Haruka was actually inclined to look.

"I have to admit," Rei said, squinting at the wall, "each time we see something like this, it makes me feel strangely nostalgic. I really can't describe it."

"Same here," Makoto admitted.

Haruka hummed in agreement.

 _Why are they all here, together? And Rim… Why..._  
  
Nagisa made a sudden noise of extreme upset, which dissolved into a whine. "Ah! There's no one to be Rin-chan!"

Rin frowned and glanced back at the mural. He considered it for a long moment, and then pointed decisively at the palace. "There."

"There?" Rei repeated curiously.

"I'm in there. In the palace."

" _Oooh_! Rin-chan, are you the king?"

"Sure, why the hell not?" Rin laughed.

Haruka snorted, sinking back into the water and assuming the position which he believed to be most comfortable.

"Hey, you think I couldn't make a good king, Haru?" Rin challenged with a lordly grin. Haruka rolled his eyes.

"Worst king ever." Haruka teased.

" _Why you_ -"

"Remember where we are," Makoto reminded. "No fighting in the bathhouse."

Nagisa giggled, there was some more mild chatter, and then the conversation died and left the group in silence as they enjoyed their bath.

Hafa watched the scene from some unknown, unfixed point that seemed to be nowhere and everywhere at the same time. He could almost feel his essence- whatever was left of it- being stretched and spread out, as thin as a sheet of parchment and just as easy to tear. It hurt. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. He wanted to leave. But he was forced to bear it until his mortal life was restored to him and he could resume the hellish cycle.

He had seen plenty of scenes play out like this before. Each time he died, he was rewarded with these strange little plays, hazy pictures and slurred speeches that sounded as if they were at the other end of a very long tunnel. It was always hard to make out, garbled and muddy, but sometimes he saw humans on giant ships fighting ruthless storms, or humans sitting in silence on strange metal constructs that were moving at impossible speeds. Other times these humans were scaling mountains, or harvesting vegetables. Dying in each other's arms. Teaching large classes of children in strange-looking buildings. Passing each other on busy streets. Crying at each other's funerals. _Living_. There was no end to the amount of stories Hafa had seen pieces of.

Recently, the images were starting to catch fire and explode with clarity and movement, and the words were much more clear and easy to understand. But _this_ vision was the clearest by far. Makarim, Reem, Najiya and Rim were all here, together, speaking nonsense to him, except that it _wasn't_ him, it couldn't be him, _it couldn't be_.

"Does it make you feel nostalgic, Rin-chan?" Nagisa asked, after some time had passed in silence. "The mural?"

Rin had a towel covering his face, which slid off of him and fell with a plop into the water. He looked at Nagisa, and then the wall. "I don't know," he answered, sighing. "It actually makes me feel kinda sad."

"Because you don't have a character?" Makoto asked, concerned.

"Naw," Rin said, with a reassuring chuckle. "Maybe it's because I'm in the palace all alone."

Haruka frowned, and pulled his head above the water. "You're not alone," he said, eyes fixed on the water's surface. "If you're inside the palace, then we're all there, too. We're just outside. We can come in anytime."

Something was happening. Hafa felt a pull roughly where his navel would be, strong and nauseating, and the scene began to break apart as if it were made of glass. If he had arms he would have grabbed at the shards, piecing them back together until he could have heard Rim's reply. But he couldn't hear anything. He was spiraling backward, unable to see, heat whipping around him and a horrible whirling sound deafening him. He was being pulled apart and then weaved back together, a feeling he had never wanted to get used to.

How many times could a soul rip to pieces before not even a curse could force it back together again?

.

.

.

Hafa's eyes rolled behind his lids. He inhaled once, twice, and then he was coughing.

A strong hand was holding the back of his head, holding him up, and when his coughing fit died down, his eyes opened blearily. Makarim was beaming at him, his eyes glistening with water.

"Haru! You're awake!" he breathed, and Hafa coughed again, his throat so dry he thought it might crack in two. Makarim seemed to understand, and he pushed the neck of his flask to Hafa's dry lips. Hafa drank gratefully, allowing Makarim's hand to support his neck until he was satisfied. With a sigh and a groan, Hafa felt Makarim lower him back down, resting his head on something soft that felt like a rolled up blanket.

"Is that better?" Makarim asked worriedly, and Hafa managed a weak nod. He felt _terrible_. He wasn't sure if it was the violent way in which he had been killed or the events that had unfolded beforehand, but either way he felt ill, compromised, and his limbs were heavy and unresponsive.

"Where…?" Hafa asked, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and tried again, despite Makarim's protests. "Where are we?"

Makarim moved, sitting near to Hafa's right side. He gestured at the cream-colored sides of the tent that were surrounding them, and Hafa noticed the walls shaking and rumbling with violent winds just on the other side.

"Somewhere south-east of the city? A sand storm hit us just after I found you," Makarim explained, taking a moment to rub his face. "I had to set up the tent quickly, so I'm sure I didn't do it very well. It's holding up, though."

"How did you find me?" Hafa asked, focusing on breathing and allowing his lungs to fill with air. They felt taut and uncomfortable, and he wondered if he had been dead longer than usual due to the grisly nature of his demise.

"That… I can't really explain very well," Makarim chuckled, his gaze falling to his lap. "It was your camel, actually. He was throwing a fit. I had a feeling something was wrong, so we loaded up and left. He led me out here. Then we saw _another_ camel, but it might have been a mirage, and-"

"You had a _hunch_ something might be wrong, so you followed a camel into the desert, just like that?" Hafa asked, amused. Makarim looked away awkwardly.

"When you say it like that, it definitely sounds a little crazy…"

"That's an understatement."

"Hey!" Makarim laughed, blushing, "I found you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Hafa replied, closing his eyes.

The sandstorm continued to beat against the frail walls of the tent without mercy. Hafa wondered how long Makarim had been sitting in the tent with him, and he wondered how long the storm intended to last. Mostly he wondered how Makarim had found him, once again, when no one else in the world was meant to.

He wondered what Sharik's question had meant.

"Haru…" Makarim started, voice low and filled with concern, "What _happened_ to you? When I found you… I…"

Hafa opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Makarim. There was a tremble running through the man, it was subtle but present, and Hafa felt guilt wash over him when he realized how pale and tired Makarim looked. Curiously, Hafa ran a hand over his own stomach, but all he felt was smooth skin, free of abrasions or wounds. He had completely healed, but it hadn't occurred to him until this very moment that Makarim had seen what had become of him before the healing process.

"Help me sit up," Hafa asked, as he was still very stiff, and Makarim did so without question.

There wasn't a lot of room in the tent. Stuffed away in the opposite corner was a plethora of blood-covered cloth and blankets, oils and medicines, and a bowl filled with red water, a balled-up rag laying limp over the side that had most likely been used to clean him off. Hafa regarded the revolting mess for a moment longer before looking reproachfully at Makarim, who glanced away out of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Hafa said, not bothering to elaborate. His gaze trailed to Makarim's hands, which were tinted dark red at the fingers. His stomach was in knots looking at those gentle hands stained in his blood.

Makarim's shoulders twitched, and Hafa could see the man losing his composure. "It isn't your fault," Makarim said, his voice trembling. "I tried to do what I could, but… There was so much _blood_ and you were…" He shut his eyes, and hugged himself in a vain effort to stop shaking. "I thought to myself, there was no way you could come back… Not after something like _that…_ And I just…"

Before he could say another word, Hafa was pulling Makarim into a hug. He kissed his sand-dusted hair, kissed his brow, kissed his temple, and Makarim was crying, quietly but openly, clinging to Hafa's shoulders so hard it almost hurt. Hafa re-positioned the both of them and shifted to allow for a comfortable embrace, resting his chin on the top of Makarim's head as the man cried and shook.

Makarim calmed himself down, breathing deeply, and tried to pull away from Hafa but the marid wouldn't let him. "I'm so sorry," Makarim said, allowing Hafa to keep him locked firmly against his chest. "I was so happy to see you heal and wake up, so I don't know why I'm-"

"I do," Hafa cut him off sternly. "You saw something horrible. I must have been a mess. No one should have to deal with something like that. I'm sorry that you had to."

Makarim let out a long steady sigh. "Please tell me what happened," he said quietly, resolutely. "I'm okay now, I promise."

Hafa released Makarim and the two of of them sat facing each other, legs touching, Hafa's hands coming to rest on Makarim's knees.

"The party was boring and uncomfortable," he started. "But by the end of the evening Rim requested me to be brought to his quarters."

"R-Really?" Makarim said, obviously surprised that the ploy had worked. "Just like that?"

"Nothing happened," Hafa felt compelled to say, at which time Makarim's face tinted pink, "but when I got there, Rim was acting strangely. I more or less told him who I was, and Rim disappeared and something took his place. A djinn."

"Wait, the Prince _disappeared_?" Makarim asked in befuddlement.

"He was possessed. An ifrit possessed him, just after he stabbed me."

Makarim's face drained of all color and his eyes widened in shock. "Stabbed?! It was the _Prince_ that did that to you?"

Hafa looked away, and Makarim's expression softened. "I'm sorry," he added, but Hafa shook his head. In an effort to move away from that topic, Makarim cleared his throat and tried again. "So you were right? When we talked before, you said you believed the Prince had the help of some kind of outside influence. Has he been possessed the entire time?"

"No," Hafa said, grateful that Makarim wasn't forcing him to recount the aforementioned event in detail, "I don't think so. _Poisoned_ would be the better word, I think."

"What's the difference?"

Hafa fell thoughtfully silent. He had never had to explain possession before, but he had also never _possessed_ anyone before, so all he had to go on were the stories he had heard blended with the mechanics of his own essence which at this point, he could barely remember or make sense of.

"A djinn can't just walk into a human body and kick the soul out. Possession is a sort of mutual deal, we see it as a kind of contract. The human has to let the djinn in of their own accord. Without permission, it's almost impossible to achieve. It's a difficult process where we fuse our own essence into the bloodstream of the host," He yanked Makarim's arm towards him and traced a line in the man's forearm, running along a prominent vein. He felt Makarim shudder under his touch.

"So… Are you saying that Prince Rim _didn't_ invite this djinn in?" Makarim asked.

"I think that he's been slowly poisoned over time," Hafa said, eyes fixed elsewhere as he thought aloud. "This ifrit has been slowly wearing him down. Infecting him with negative feelings like greed and hate until that was all Rim had room for. And when Rim recognized me in his room, he got so angry…" Hafa trailed off and felt the sinking, sick feeling from before. It made him feel insignificant and weak. "I broke him," he finished in a small voice.

"Haru, _no_ , none of this was your fau-"

"I haven't told you about my curse." Hafa said, halting Makarim in his well-meaning words. Makarim watched him with a mixture of apprehension and silent encouragement. Hafa could not meet his eyes, and let his gaze fall to his lap.

"I told you that I watched Rim's village burn. I watched those people die, and fleetingly I wanted to help them, but I couldn't justify it. Why not save _every_ human life? Why save these people, but not others who are suffering? These thoughts crossed my mind, and so I watched. I did nothing. And when I saw those two children stumble out of the mess, I felt overcome with guilt. With obligation. That's why I helped them. It was selfishness, nothing more."

Makarim gripped one of Hafa's hands, squeezing it. "Haru…"

"Rim often asked me why I helped them, and I could never answer honestly, because I was such a coward. He begged me to help him restore his village, to bring people back from their ashes, and I refused, over and over again. I couldn't change what had been done. And over time, Rim grew resentful. He became distant. And finally, he pushed me away. He told me to never bother him or his sister again, and so I left him. I wanted him to be happy, and if he was happiest not having to look at me, I was ready to obey him. I could only remind him of the things that couldn't be changed."

"People who have suffered loss often push others away, Haru. You can't blame yourself for what happened. What happened to their village has happened to countless others. Wars wage, buildings burn. Even if you _had_ tried to stop it, you would have just been altering the actions of humans and possibly making things even worse."

Hafa closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He shook his head gently. "It was a djinn who destroyed the village." he said, and Makarim intook breath sharply. "His name is Sharik, and he's the same djinn that is living inside of Rim's body right now. It's _my_ fault that this happened to him. If I'd stopped it then..."

"Wh-What?" Makarim breathed. "But why would he-"

"Sharik made friends with Rim. He told him that I had watched the death of his people, and he told Rim my true name. And one night, out of the blue, I was summoned. I had never been summoned before, so I didn't even know what was happening when the world gave way and faded to black. But when I came to I was being confronted by Rim in a Confinement Circle, and he demanded the truth from me. I couldn't lie to him. I gave in and told him everything, and that was when he cursed me. At first I thought he was capturing me, but then I woke up in this body in the middle of the desert and I realized what must have happened."

The storm outside dwindled into a low howl. The walls of the tent continued to stand firm, clouds blotting out the sun and darkening the sky to leave the occupants of the tent in a dim orange glow, the only light filtering in through the thick yellowed fabric. Hafa felt like he was being judged, both by the Gods and by Makarim, and he was positive he knew whose opinion mattered more to him.

"Why didn't you tell me all of that before?" Makarim asked gently. Hafa turned his head and frowned.

"I didn't know some of that until last night. Sharik told me everything before he finished me off. The rest of it I just didn't want to admit." He could feel Makarim's eyes burning holes in him, and so he sheepishly added, "I wasn't sure what you'd think of me."

Before Hafa could register what was happening Makarim's hands were slipping behind his head and pulling him in to meet his mouth. The gesture was unexpected, and the force of it pulled Hafa forward, his hands finding anchorage on Makarim's upper thighs. Makarim kissed him slowly, longingly, in every way that made Hafa's stomach flutter and coil.

Mouths broke apart and Hafa exhaled shakily. Makarim was breathing hot against Hafa's lips, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I don't know why I-"

"Don't apologize," Hafa said huskily, teasingly brushing his lips against the other man's. He didn't want Makarim to stop, he wanted more. Nothing eased his mind like being close to Makarim, feeling his breath, tasting his tongue. Rational thoughts were gone, replaced by surging desires and the memory of grinding his hips against Makarim's in the palace's oasis. His mouth sought Makarim's again, greedily, but Makarim gently pushed him away while still keeping their proximity close.

" _No_ , Haru, I don't mean that I'm sorry I _did_ it, I'm sorry that I…" Makarim trailed off when Hafa flashed him a dazed look. He groaned and carded his hands through Hafa's hair, resting their foreheads together. He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry that I started this, right now. This isn't exactly a good time to-"

"Why not?" Hafa asked, a bit too eagerly. Makarim whined pitifully, his face burning up.

"Because we haven't even… I mean, if we start this, then…?"

Hafa brushed his knuckles feather-light against Makarim's cheeks. It was more of a struggle than he thought to try and calm himself down; he felt so sensitive, so wound up, that being so near to Makarim was making his pulse race and his vision cloud. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Hafa heard himself say.

Makarim chewed his bottom lip nervously. "It isn't exactly that I don't _want_ to," he admitted softly. "I just don't think this is the right time, is it? I mean, what if the Prince- _Err_ , Sharik?- is planning something horrible? What's happening at the palace? With a malevolent djinn in control of the Prince's body, isn't that something… I don't know… Urgent?" he asked worriedly.

He was right, of course, and Hafa knew that, but the blood-rush to his groin was leaving him feeling careless and needy. The mention of Sharik's name kicked off the cooling process, however, and Hafa tried to concentrate on the issues at hand _if only Makarim wasn't so close to him in this very small very secluded tent_.

Hafa pulled away, repositioning himself, his knees bumping Makarim's. Makarim looked momentarily mortified. "I'm _really_ sorry, Haru…"

"Don't be. You're right. I get a little carried away around you sometimes." Hafa said with a reassuring smile, and Makarim brightened up considerably. "I'm still not really… _In control_ of that part of mortal anatomy yet. I can't believe how easily they switch on, those _feelings_."

Makarim blinked at him. "Don't djinns… Uh. Well, you know…?"

"Breed? Have sex?" Hafa finished, and Makarim covered his face with his hands, his blush spreading to his ears.

" _Haruuu_!"

"Some of us do, some of us don't. Breeding isn't exactly mandatory, since we live such a long time. I've never been social enough to have the urge. I was always content just being in water."

Makarim tried hard to not look so curious. "Really? So you've never…?"

"No," Hafa answered. "Have you?" He hadn't meant to sound quite so possessive.

"No!" Makarim answered quickly, shaking his head. "No. I've been too busy with my family and the business and… Everything. My father is always nagging me to get married, but there hasn't been anyone…"

Silence. The silence was so pronounced, in fact, that both men looked at the tent walls and strained to listen, but there was nothing.

"Is the storm over?" Makarim asked, and Hafa rolled over onto his knees and crawled to the tent flap, working to untie it. "Haru, don't strain yourself-"

"I'm fine," Hafa assured, and opened the tent flap, peering outside. The sky was still thick with dismal clouds, but the wind had died, the only hint of a storm taking the shape of several tiny whirlwinds that were whipping around in the distance. Hafa's camel, who had been patiently laying in the sand just outside the tent, offered him an enthusiastic wail. Hafa smiled and returned inside, letting the door fall closed.

"It looks like it's over," he said. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. The storm had almost been a nice reprieve from reality, a sort of seclusion that he and Makarim had briefly shared together. The storm had halted time, giving Hafa a selfish excuse to remain actionless and take a breath. Now that they were free to go, more pressing matters were taking precedence.

"Thank goodness," Makarim seemed vaguely put-off as well. He busied himself with packing up his medical supplies, water, and the remaining unstained cloth. "We'd better get back to the city and see what's happening."

"Makarim." Hafa grabbed for Makarim's hand as he was stuffing a container of oil into his bag. "I have a question to ask you."

Staring at the marid as one might look upon an incredible rarity discovered in its natural habitat, Makarim set down his bag and gave Hafa his full attention. "What is it?"

There was a cowardly part of Hafa that didn't want to tell him. It had happened so many years ago for Makarim that he almost couldn't see the point in mentioning it. Why burden him with something that he couldn't alter? It mattered little what details of the event had gone unseen, because it wouldn't change anything. But since he'd woken up, Hafa could not forget the furious voice of Sharik, the voice that spoke in Rim's voice.

"It's about the ifrit, Sharik." he started, and Makarim's expression became somber. Hafa struggled with himself, frustrated at his inability to speak more smoothly about it. "Just… How much do you remember? About the night we met, all those years ago?"

The question seemed to take Makarim aback, eyebrows raised as he summoned the memory. "Well, let's see… I remember going to the water's edge. I remember praying to the statue of Manāt before getting into the water. The water was cold. Uhh…" Makarim's face screwed up in concentration. "I remember losing my footing, and nearly drowning. And then a force pulling me back up, and then nothing. Until I woke up and saw you, that is."

"Do you remember what pulled you down?" Hafa asked curiously. Makarim's mouth formed an 'o'.

" _What_ pulled me down?" he asked in incredulity. "You mean to say that was _Sharik_?" He looked away, eyes drawn to some unknown point as the realization sunk in. "That's _right_. Something around my ankle, tight, it was so tight it hurt… But I wasn't thinking about that, I was too focused on dying, I never thought…" Makarim trailed off, a dry laugh parting his lips. "I never questioned it. I thought it was the thing in the ocean that I was always so afraid of."

Hafa stared at his hands in his lap as if they were extremely interesting. "I often watched the children play by the water. That was my home for a while, that piece of the ocean just outside the city, and although I had no interest in humans, I enjoyed watching them appreciate the water."

"I figured you would have thought humans to be disrespectful of the water." Makarim chimed in with a fond smile. "Especially when they're doing silly things with it, like swimming."

Hafa shook his head. "Humans have been drawn to water since the Beginning. No matter how many times you're reminded of how powerful and deadly water can be, you still continue to swim, build ships, sail, and surround yourselves with it. I've always admired that."

"I never thought of it that way."

"But you were the one child that refused to get in the water," Hafa said, and Makarim might have been embarrassed if he hadn't noticed the small smile that was gracing Hafa's lips as he recalled the memory. "At first, I couldn't understand you. Why would someone avoid water? Why couldn't you see how wonderful the water was?"

Makarim couldn't stop his ears from burning, regardless. "I didn't know you had been watching me for that long." he admitted.

"The more I watched you and your friends, the more I understood. You didn't look at the water with contempt. You looked at it with such wonder and respect, it exceeded all of the other children's understanding. You recognized that there was danger and power that you couldn't control. I couldn't dislike you after that."

"Is that why you were there that night?" Makarim asked gently, pleasantly surprised that Hafa was feeling comfortable enough to tell him all of this. He was treading carefully, feeling very much as if he were playing with blocks and had built a precarious tower, balancing one last block at the top and afraid to breathe at risk of tipping over the entire structure. He got this feeling often when talking to Hafa, always holding his breath to ensure Hafa could speak freely without the conversation crumbling to silence.

"Yes," Hafa admitted. "I told you, I felt drawn to you. I wanted you to succeed."

Makarim frowned, scratching his neck absently. "So… Why would Sharik try and drown me? Do ifrits _normally_ go around drowning children?" he asked softly.

If Hafa could have answered this question with any semblance of finality, he wouldn't have been so concerned. "I don't know," he said, helping Makarim pack some of the stray items that were lying around the tent. "I honestly never gave it any thought. Ifrits are powerful, and they don't have much respect for humanity. You wouldn't have been the first human I'd seen ended by one of them. I just thought it was chance and bad luck on your part."

"Then, why are you telling me this now? What changed?"

Hafa stared hard at Makarim. "Nothing, I guess. I don't know. It was something Sharik said, right before he killed me. He asked me why I saved you back then." Makarim was looking at him, emerald eyes shining with a mixture of incertitude and unease. Hafa's gaze softened. "It unnerved me, hearing him talk about you."

For a moment both men were overcome with a wave of desire that they both immediately squashed. Makarim ripped his eyes away from the marid's blue pools and cleared his throat, resuming his packing. "Let's hurry. We should get back before sundown."

.

.

.

They had taken the back streets to avoid too much attention.

Reem had to admit, he was impressed. Najiya maneuvered through these alleys and unseen streets like they were his home, and perhaps they were, because Reem had not yet gotten up the courage to ask. The blonde didn't ever talk about his life before meeting Reem a week ago, but little things he did and said seemed to imply that he had been homeless prior to coming to live at the palace, and that pained Reem in a way he couldn't understand.

Following Najiya closely and staring at the back of the dancer's head more than watching where he was going, Reem frowned. Last night, he had admitted an attraction to this boy, and he had truly meant it. Reem didn't have any experience with relationships or romantic feelings, but he was fairly certain that kissing someone breathless was grounds enough to assume you were now in some kind of relationship. The exact nature of the relationship, he wasn't yet sure, but it was a starting point, at least.

 _Why am I thinking about this_ now _?_ Reem thought furiously. _There are much more important things to be dealt with. I should ask Najiya how close we are to reaching Makarim's shop._

"Your navigation is amazing. Not even _I_ know these twisting streets so well." Reem said instead, and inwardly kicked himself. Najiya glanced back at Reem with a dazzling smile.

"Of course!" Najiya chirped, rounding another corner. "It's practically home to me back here. And you have to know your way around _quickly_ when you're-" he cut himself off abruptly and stopped walking so fast that Reem had to grab the nearest wall to avoid a collision. Najiya turned to Reem apologetically, shamefully resuming his gait. "Ahh, sorry Reem…"

"It's alright…" Reem said, brows dipped in worry. "Were you about to say that you were having to steal?"

Najiya slowed his pace, looking up at Reem with a guilty wince. "Do you hate me?" he asked quietly.

Reem stopped walking, his chest having just felt distinctly as if it had burst into flames. Without another word, he grabbed Najiya's shoulders firmly and held him at arms length.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. He was horrified that Najiya would think that was even a possibility at this point. "Najiya, the city is in turmoil. Many years ago the Prince _never_ would have let something like that happen, but he's changed, and so has the city. People need to steal and scrape to get by, and although it was my job to enforce the law, I could never condemn an innocent for simply trying to survive."

"I know you wouldn't!" Najiya cried earnestly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's alright," Reem assured, smiling. "I understand why you would have been nervous to tell me. I just needed you to know that there's nothing you could do to make me judge you harshly. Nothing at all."

Najiya's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked gently. He grinned impishly. "Even if I turned into a fruit bat?"

"I- _What_?" Reem demanded quizzically.

"Ooh, what about a penguin? What if I turned into a penguin and flew away?"

"Penguins do not fly." Reem answered flatly. He was pretty sure they were flightless birds, even if he'd only ever seen them in books.

"What if they _could_?" Najiya's tone was teasing, playful, and Reem was beginning to take that as an invitation to use his lips to end the conversation. He obliged, kissing the boy in earnest.

They broke apart several feverish moments later, Najiya somehow having been pressed against the back wall of someone's house and Reem's eye glasses knocked ungracefully askew.

"We should… Uhm. _Focus_. We need to focus on what we're out here to do." Reem suggested as he righted his spectacles, and Najiya nodded although he looked vaguely dreamy.

They arrived at their destination in under an hour, thanks to shortcuts and Najiya's back street navigation prowess.

Emptying into a street just next to Makarim's shop, Reem and Najiya viewed the people that were starting their day, talking, buying and selling. It was surreal, seeing everyone acting so normally when there was so much happening around them that they weren't aware of. The world could be coming to an end and these people wouldn't know it until the fires started. It filled the two men with a greater sense of urgency, being the only two on these bustling streets that were aware of the potential danger looming over them.

"It's that one," Najiya pointed to a modest-sized building, hearty green bushes covering much of the walls. A weathered sign hung amidst some of the branches, reading ' _Tahiyah Pots_ ', near a sizeable window-style opening in the wall where two children were painstakingly setting up a large vase for display. A white dog was watching the twins with assumed apprehension and a wagging tail, unable to aid them in their plight.

As Reem and Najiya approached, the dog took notice of them and tucked its tail, retreating under the ledge of the window.

The twins straightened as they saw the strangers, shoulder to shoulder, with welcoming smiles on their charming little faces.

"Good morning!" the twins chimed in unison, and Najiya offered them a bright smile in return. "See anything you like?" the boy asked, with all the charisma of a proper salesman.

"We'll give you a great price!" the girl added, leaning her elbows on the window ledge.

Now that they were closer, the resemblance to Makarim was very apparent. The girl had Makarim's shining emerald eyes, and the boy his chin and nose.

"Uhh, maybe that can wait!" Najiya started with a grin. "We're actually here to see Makarim. Is he here?"

The twins' smiles vanished simultaneously, a literal depiction of the truth behind their well-practiced sales approach.

"Big brother?" the girl said. "Are you friends of his?"

"Yep!" Najiya said, putting his hands squarely on his hips. "We really need to see him, it's super important."

The twins exchanged a troubled look, and Najiya felt his own smile snuff out. Reem frowned. "Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, big brother isn't here right now." the boy admitted. "And we don't know when he'll be back, but it will definitely be soon!"

"Definitely!" the girl agreed with bold resolution. It was obvious they were worried.

"Oh. Well, that's good. Do you mind if we stick around until he gets back?" Najiya asked politely.

The siblings once again exchanged a silent decision and then shook their heads. "We don't mind," said the girl. "You can stay as long as you don't chase away any customers," her eyes flicked to Reem, and he could feel her gaze lingering on his outfit. His uniform was well-covered by a loose-fitting royal-purple kurta, but the garment did nothing to hide his palace-issued punjabi pants and boots. The sword strapped to his side probably didn't help.

"We promise we'll wait quietly," Reem answered, feeling guilty by association.

"Or we could help you guys out while you wait for your brother to get back? You need some stuff moved, or something like that?" Najiya piped up in excitement, eyeing the heavy vases behind the display window. Once again the twins had to refer to one another with silent discussions.

The boy smiled. "Sure! If you're friends of big brother's, I don't see why not." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Can you sweep a floor?"

"Of course we can," Reem replied, quirking a brow. "I think everyone knows how to do such a menial task."

"Haru didn't, remember?" the girl giggled, looking at her brother. He giggled knowingly in reply, and Najiya took a giant step forward.

"Haru?" he asked, eyes wide, "You know Haru?"

The twins regarded Najiya in surprise. "He stayed with big brother for a few days," the boy said. "That's where big brother is right now. He's out finding Haru, because he's worried he might be lost."

Najiya turned to Reem. "How do you think Makarim found out?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm not sure," Reem lifted a hand to his chin. "Perhaps Makarim is _also_ an other-worldly being?"

"No, look, he's got little siblings over there," Najiya pointed out, shaking his head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter! Makarim might be finding Haru right now and bringing him back here!"

"Hey, were you guys gonna help us or what?" the girl snapped, glowering at them from her perch behind the window ledge.

Reem stiffened and Najiya whirled around obediently, both of them surprised at how commanding the little girl's voice could be.

"Yes ma'am! We're on it!"

.

.

.

"By the way, what is ' _Makoto_ '?" Makarim asked between labored breaths. The morning sun was blazing now, the clouds having apparently served their purpose and dispersed, leaving plenty of room for the sun to burn down at them unforgivingly. Their only savior was a light breeze, a remnant of the sandstorm that was suddenly only a memory.

Hafa might have tripped over himself if he wasn't so sure-footed in the sand. "What?" the marid replied, somewhat flustered, having been utterly unprepared for the question.

Makarim wiped his brow with his arm, slowing his pace to walk alongside Hafa. "Right before you woke up, you were muttering strange words. There were others, but _Makoto_ was repeated. I forgot all about it until just now."

Hafa tugged gently at his camel's harness, and the animal grunted and picked up its pace. "I don't really know." It was true, after all. He hadn't been able to make any sense of the visions he'd seen over the years; they were concepts that were completely out of his grasp, and his most recent vision may have been more livid than the rest but it only served to make things more confusing.

"Ah, I see." Makarim smiled at him, warmer than the sun, and Hafa averted his gaze, his eyes landing on something pale and striking in the distance. His camel appeared to see it at just the same moment, and both stopped, staring.

"That's it!" Makarim exclaimed, having seen the figure shortly after the other two. "The white camel! What do you think, Haru? Is it a djinn?"

Hafa stared in silence for a long moment, contemplating, until finally he started walking, straying from their previous direction to follow after the silhouette of the white camel.

"Wait! Haru, that isn't the way back… What if we get lost?" Makarim jogged after him, a difficult task on sand. "Or worse, what if it's _trying_ to get us lost?"

"It led you to my body, right?" Hafa pointed out, and Makarim fell thoughtfully silent. "I feel like we should follow it."

Makarim considered this, sighed, and then nodded. "Okay. I'm with you."

Two hours marched on. Sometimes the white camel was hard to spot and it was almost like a game finding wherever it had gone; twice Hafa and Makarim had sat down for a break, drinking gingerly at the water reserves that Makarim had brought as the mysterious camel waited patiently on the horizon.

The chase was becoming frustrating and perhaps a tad bit worrying. Although Makarim was keeping a detailed log of which directions they were going in case they _were_ being led astray and needed to get back, neither man was entirely certain that their sense of direction was good enough to bet their lives on. Despite his earlier confidence, Hafa was beginning to wonder if he should have trusted his gut.

"What _are_ those?"

Hafa hadn't noticed the strange shapes several yards away until Makarim pointed them out. The white camel stood between two stone mounds that from a distance looked like broken-down pillars, aged and beaten over time. Hafa couldn't remember ever seeing anything like them, in all his years of wandering. All at once he realized what the white camel was, but he still had no idea why they were being led here.

The men picked up their pace. The white camel had vanished between the blinking of their eyes, and left them climbing a steep dune to meet the stone monuments.

Hafa's camel strained against his harness with an anxious groan and a flash of teeth, and Hafa released his hold on the rope. His camel walked a few paces away, lowering his head to munch at some dried grass that was peeking up from the sand. Makarim glanced at Hafa with worry, and the marid met his eyes evenly. "He doesn't like it here. He won't leave us, don't worry."

Makarim relaxed, turning his attention to one of the strange stone monuments. There were many more than two, fourteen still standing. They were rectangular in shape but badly weathered, carvings caked with sand and faded to almost nothing. They looked so old that they might crumble if they were touched, but Makarim still cautiously extended a hand to run along the rough stone. "I think they're gravestones," he remarked, and Hafa nodded in agreement. "But what are they doing all the way out here?"

"The better question is, _whose_ are they?" Hafa said, squinting hard at one of the stone surfaces to try and read the inscription. It was completely illegible.

"Look," Makarim had moved near to the center of the monuments, and was gesturing to the ground. "Look at this."

In front of the largest gravestone, a pile of fresh flowers sat prettily on the sand. Hafa knelt down and picked one up, twirling it lazily between his fingers.

"Someone is still paying their respects, all the way out here," Makarim said in a wondering tone.

Hafa stood up and walked around to the other side of the gravestone. The ground felt different here. He had walked these sand dunes for so long, he _knew_ how it was meant to feel beneath his feet, and there was a hollowness under them now that was unsettling.

Just as he was thinking on this, the ground gave way underneath him, and Hafa was falling- no, he was sliding- and the ground hadn't given way, it was moving, shifting, opening up and folding down. Makarim yelled for him, and Hafa felt a tight grip on his wrist but it was too late. Sand covered them as they tumbled down, and their panicked cries were drowned out by the unbearably loud sound of stone grinding against stone.

The cascade of fallen sand made their trip downward manageable. Light and sound left them above as they tumbled, and after the longest minute of their life they finally reached solid ground, landing with a thump and a gasp onto a pile of sand that had made the journey with them.

Hafa found himself face-down in the sand, but was too sore and bewildered to move. Only when he heard Makarim groan did he finally pull himself up, coughing, and he crawled towards the sound, feeling around blindly in the darkness until his hand clasped Makarim's knee. From what little he could see and what he could feel, it appeared that Makarim had landed flat on his back. He didn't seem fully conscious, and worry constricted Hafa painfully as he gently shook his shoulder and squinted through the darkness to see movement on his face.

"Makarim."

Hafa watched as Makarim's eyes fluttered open, and immediately he cringed with discomfort. " _Ugh_ … What…" Makarim struggled to sit and Hafa helped him, holding tight to his shoulder, his chest tight with concern.

"Are you okay?" Hafa asked.

Makarim looked at Hafa through the darkness, trying and failing to focus on him. "I should be asking you that, after what you've been through today." he said with a weak laugh.

"Idiot, I'm fine," Hafa chided, frustrated at Makarim's insistence on worrying about others before himself. "I can recover from anything. You can't."

"I'm fine too," Makarim assured, and Hafa thought he could see a smile. "I think I just got the wind knocked out of me, is all."

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

Using each other for support, Hafa and Makarim rose, carefully navigating over the mound of sand and finding stone floor. Makarim fumbled in the darkness for a moment to locate his turban, which had flown off in the confusion, and replaced it on his head. Now that the adrenaline rush was over and their senses were returning to normal, they realized just how cold it was down here, cold and damp and dark.

Makarim groaned. "I _hate_ the dark… I brought candles along, but they're with the camel." Gripping the cloth adorning Hafa's shoulders to ensure they wouldn't be separated, Makarim stepped forward tentatively, finding the wall with his hand. The stone was freezing cold under his touch. "Where do you suppose we are…?"

Hafa's eyes were rapidly adjusting to the darkness. "Considering what we saw up above, it's most likely a crypt."

"A… _Crypt_?" Makarim breathed, and Hafa felt the man go rigid and shuffle closer to him. "You mean there might be dead bodies here? We're… We're _desecrating their tombs_?" His voice was quaking with unadulterated terror.

For someone who had unquestioningly trespassed into a royal palace _and_ braved a sandstorm on a camel's instincts and a whim, Hafa never would have expected Makarim's resolve to shatter so quickly.

"Any bodies in here are so ancient they're probably dust. I think the bigger concern is finding our way out. If it _is_ a crypt, it might only be designed to dump things in, not let things out." Hafa said as gently as he could manage. He heard a strangled noise come from Makarim, a mix between a squeak and a gasp, and he immediately felt guilty. "Don't worry," he added, "I'll find us a way out, I promise." Hafa aggressively tried to ignore his own growing terror, a gnawing realization in his gut that he had royally doomed Makarim in his foolish quest. It would do no good to worry about such things when they had hardly begun, and so he led the way towards what he assumed to be the inner chambers.

He continued carefully, a hand along the wall, as Makarim followed behind him, his hand fisted and trembling in Hafa's keffiyeh. They went on in silence for several minutes, Makarim jumping in horror every time Hafa accidentally kicked something, or the two instances where Makarim _swore_ he could see something moving in the darkness.

Hafa stopped walking abruptly, earning another yipe from Makarim. "Why did you stop?" the man asked, his voice several octaves higher than was usual. Hafa said nothing, sliding a finger into his mouth and pulling it out, pointing it skyward.

"Do you feel that?" Hafa asked.

Makarim concentrated. "Is that…?"

"A current of wind," Hafa finished, and started forward so quickly that Makarim nearly lost his footing. "There's a central chamber up ahead, and it's circulating _air_. It might be a way out."

It wasn't long before the men saw light at the end of the hall. They broke into a run, barely breathing as their surroundings were slowly becoming illuminated and the air became less sour and stagnant. There was an archway just ahead, the source of the light, and both men had to shield their eyes with their arms and slow to a stop just after passing under the arch and entering the chamber.

The room wasn't bright by any means, and their eyes re-adjusted rather quickly. The light was coming from the ceiling, where ruined bits of stone had crumbled away and allowed thin, steady streams of sand to flow and spit along with just enough sunlight to light sections of the room.

From what they could see, the chamber was taller than it was wide, the ceiling presumably reaching all the way to the surface. Massive stone pillars lined the walls, stretching down to a painted floor that once had carpets but now only wore tattered remnants of cloth. Tables and chairs were positioned on either side of the chamber, complete with copper offering plates and pedestals, one of which was cracked in half and splayed on the floor.

Nothing else in the room could possibly distract from the statue that sat directly in its center. Standing at least five times taller than Makarim was a statue of a man in glorious robes, standing nobly with a staff firmly planted between his feet and a crown atop his head. One of his hands was raised in front of himself regally, fingers pointed to the heavens, a ring on his third finger.

The men stared at the statue in silence, Makarim's mouth agape and Hafa left with the feeling that he should know who the statue was meant to represent. Before either of them could find words to speak, the torches on the walls surrounding them suddenly burst with life one after another, flames dancing against the walls and filling the room with warmth.

"I'm really glad you came," echoed a female voice from the other end of the chamber. Makarim started badly, and Hafa pulled the taller man behind him protectively.

"Who's there?" Hafa demanded. Despite the tone of his voice, he was decently startled.

A girl emerged shyly from behind the statue. Her chestnut hair fell airily to her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face in the most flattering way. She wore scanty clothing that jingled and swayed as she walked, and her delicate pink lips were pulled into a smile. She rested her hip against the base of the statue.

"While you're here, I insist you pay your respects." she said. "You're in the tomb of the great King Solomon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how long I've been wanting to write this chapter. So glad it's done!
> 
> Finally, Miss Amakata makes an appearance! (Yeah, that's her. haha) Sorry I left it on such a confusing cliffhanger. I promise to try and get the next chapter done quick, but there is _so much_ that needs to happen.
> 
> I hope there was enough MakoHaru fluff to make up for the fact that those two love birds haven't seen each other in three chapters. They'll be practically inseparable now.
> 
> The opening scene of this chapter is based on official art from KyoAni: http://oi62.tinypic.com/35i10s8.jpg  
> Ever since I saw that picture, I wanted to include it in the story somehow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makarim learns who he really is, Najiya talks about his past, and Reem and Najiya find themselves in a horrible situation.

He wasn't sure where he was. He nearly felt like he'd been awoken from a deep sleep, but his feet were planted firmly in cool sand, and his eyes did not need to adjust to the growing darkness around him. Buildings beckoned him in the distance, a huge city spread out just beyond the expanse of sand in which he'd found himself.

For a wild moment, Rim couldn't remember where Ghazi was. Was she at the communal house? His thoughts were muddled and unfocused, but a soothing voice was telling him that she was fine. Rim relaxed, still unsure of where he was. He needed to get back to his little sister before she started to worry.

Still, his feet were moving, and he was walking. Why was he walking this way? He could see a figure sitting on the sand outside the city, and he was compelled to continue towards it. He couldn't explain it. He needed to be there. As he walked, he became aware of a flat, cool object that was slipped into the hem of his pants, hidden under his shirt. It felt like a blade. When had he acquired something like that?

As Rim neared the figure, he realized it was a boy. He was no older than Rim, it seemed, with hair the color of the sand he was sitting in and a far-away gaze. He sat with his knees pulled up just at the border of a massive discoloration of sand. Rim followed his gaze and stared out at the expanse.

"Hello," came a gentle voice, and Rim turned, realizing that he had stopped walking mere feet away from the boy. The brunette was smiling at him, and Rim struggled to smile back.

"H-Hi."

"I haven't seen you before." the boy said kindly. "What's your name?"

Rim was startled to find that he couldn't remember right away. This scared him.

"I… I'm just a wanderer."

"Oh." the boy didn't press the matter, seeming content. "I'm Makarim."

There was a hissing in Rim's ears, something hot pressing on his back, and he had a wild urge to grab his knife, but he wasn't sure to what purpose.

"What are you doing out here?" Rim asked, desperate to squash the things he was feeling and regain control.

"Ah," Makarim looked out at the discoloration of sand with an embarrassed laugh. "Promise not to think I'm weird?"

"I promise."

"I'm waiting for someone," Makarim said with a fond smile.

"Out here?" Rim asked quizzically.

"I know it's strange, but I think this is where I met someone a year ago. When the water was still here."

Rim looked back out at the sand, his throat tightening. He realized now why it felt wrong, why the sand was different and unnatural. This is where the water had been. Just two days ago, there had been a vast oasis that had sustained the area. Rim could feel panic perched just behind his tongue. He had taken the water away from this city in his selfish attempt to make Hafa suffer.

"No one else remembers the water, but I _swear_ it was here," Makarim continued, and Rim could hardly hear him for the deafening whispering in his ears and the mounting pain in his chest and back.

" _Kill him_." the voice was loud and so close, Rim stepped back and nearly fell over. Makarim was looking at him, eyes wide in concern, but he seemed oblivious to the voice. How could he not _hear_ it?

"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" Makarim was suddenly closer, a hand hesitantly stretched out in case he needed to help steady the other boy, and Rim realized that he must have blacked out for the smallest of seconds. His hand was under his shirt, touching the smooth handle of the dagger, and Rim ripped his hand away in horror. What had he been _doing_?

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Rim choked out. He wasn't fine. He was so far from fine that he wasn't even sure if he was still himself.

Makarim lowered his hand, brows drawn in concern. "Could it be that you remember the water, too?" he asked softly.

Rim looked away, ashamed. "No," he lied. Admitting that he remembered would almost be like confessing to a sin, and the thought made his stomach turn.

"Oh." Makarim smiled sadly and looked back out across the sand. "Maybe it was all just a dream I had."

Rim looked back at where the water used to be. He wished that the last few months had been a dream. Sharik had helped him to release the rage he felt inside, he had helped him punish Hafa for what he'd done - no - what he had _allowed_ to happen. But where satisfaction and loathing had once burned strongly, now he felt nothing but a dull ache, rapidly fading embers that were snuffing out into sadness and regret.

" _Kill him_." That voice again, so loud that it sent Rim's mind whirling into blackness. Rim grabbed his head, crying out, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block out the sound.

" _Kill him. Kill him._ _ **KILL HIM**_ _._ "

Rim snapped back to his senses. Makarim was staring up at him, green eyes wide and filled with surprise and fear. Rim was ontop of him, straddling his waist, the dagger's steel at the boy's throat. Horrified and trembling, Rim released his hold on the other boy and scrambled off of him, his fingers curled around the handle of the dagger so tightly that he couldn't even manage dropping it.

"I… I'm…" Rim sputtered, Makarim carefully sitting up and staring, transfixed in terror. Without another word, Rim turned and ran. He ran faster than he'd ever run in his life, blind and directionless, tears flowing and streaking his cheeks. He finally tripped and landed hard in a mound of dirt just outside the city, crying and heaving.

When he finally pulled himself together, he slammed a fist to the ground. "What was the _meaning_ of that?!" he shrieked, face twisting in fury. "That was you, wasn't it?!"

A black mist formed just in front of Rim. It spoke with a voice like airy silk, smoky and drifting. "Did you or did you not offer a blood pact with me in order to curse the treacherous Hafa'ma?" Sharik asked calmly.

Rim flashed the apparition a snarl. "I did, but I did _not_ give you permission to use my body as you pleased!" he yelled. "You almost made me kill that boy!"

"It would be in your interest to kill that boy," Sharik replied. "You told me that you wished for power. He has the object I mentioned that could give you all of that, and more."

"I don't want it, if it means murdering someone!" Rim exclaimed. "If you're really a djinn, you should be able to grant me anything I want, without having to kill anyone! You can use that jewel thing you have, just like you did when you took the water!"

Sharik was silent, the cloud of black smoke quivering. "Awfully noble of you, considering how easily you condemned your dear Hafa to an eternity of Hell on Earth," he said coolly, and Rim again felt the crushing guilt consume him. He wiped away angry tears.

"He deserved it," Rim said in a small voice, not sure if he believed his own words anymore.

"Of course," Sharik cooed. "As far as granting your desires, even I have my limits. Djinn are not Gods, though perhaps we are able to taste godliness." The smoke cloud flared up, doubling in size.

"Are you saying you can't grant me what I desire?" Rim challenged bitterly.

"I can grant whatever you wish. You and I together are a formidable force. With your help, I can let you achieve anything… But you have to truly want it. You have to let me in."

Rim was silent for several moments, fists buried in dirt, tears drying on his cheeks. He thought of Hafa, and the days where he had sat by the water's edge just like Makarim, talking and laughing and feeling comforted by the marid's presence. He remembered when he had expressed to Hafa his desire to be a shark; it was still something that appealed to him, being strong and fierce enough to leave everything behind with powerful fins and jaws, and be able to give his sister a secure future. He felt cheated by life, and he also felt the need for redemption.

"I wish to have power and wealth beyond belief. I want to be able to help others with my power. I want the water- _all_ of it- and I want to be able to share it with _everyone,_ and offer help to those in need."

Rim thought he could feel the ground rumbling under him, but he may have been imagining it. Sharik was thoughtfully silent, his form shifting and changing rapidly.

"Sometimes the desire to help others can give way to greed," the ifrit said amusingly.

"Will you grant me this, or won't you?" Rim snapped.

"It has already been done, your Highness," Sharik replied snarkily, and Rim thought he heard a chuckle as the ground began to shake and crack. Rim stood up in alarm, trying to hold his balance as he heard the far-off shouts and screams of the city-dwellers.

Rim watched with wide eyes as pillars of sand rose up from the cracks in the ground, connecting to form walls and balconies made of stone and precious metals. The noise was deafening, the very sounds of the world breaking to pieces, and Rim had to cover his ears to muffle it. He shouted for Sharik, scared, but he did not receive a reply. Rim fell over, the ground under his feet too unsteady to hold him.

When he looked up, the sound had stopped and the world had ceased its violent quaking. Reflected in Rim's eyes was a magnificent palace - _his_ palace - and it looked as if it had always been there, feeling as natural and fitting as any other structure. The wind whispered his name, spreading like an infection over the city. Immediately, Rim knew he had changed. He could do great things with this power.

No one would ever have to suffer again.

.

.

.

"King _Solomon_?" Makarim repeated dubiously.

"Of course," the pretty woman responded with a cheeky head-tilt and a smile. "Who else's ego is big enough to fill an entire room of this size?"

Hafa took his eyes off of the woman long enough to crane his neck and look once more at the statue. He understood why it had struck such a familiar chord when he'd first seen it; it was the man most favored by the Gods, _Jedidiah_ , for certain. Hafa wasn't old enough to have seen Solomon with his own eyes- the King's reign had been at least two thousand years before he came into existence- but King Solomon was as prominent a figure in djinn culture as a God of Creation was to humankind.

Hafa lowered his head and evened his gaze at the woman. "Why did you lead us here?" he asked flatly.

Makarim recoiled almost as if Hafa had shouted at him. "Wait…! _She_ , you mean that _she_ is…?"

"A jann," Hafa answered. "A shape-shifting djinn who specializes in leading people astray in the desert."

"I didn't lead you astray!" the jann cut in hotly. "I've done nothing but help you today, haven't I?"

"That depends on why you led us _here_ ," Hafa pointed out.

"Why did you change your form from before?" Makarim asked curiously. The jann crossed her slender arms.

"I figured that this form would be most pleasing to your eye. A talking camel might not have boded so well as this. Was I wrong?" she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Human men like this kind of thing, do they not?"

"I suppose," Makarim laughed nervously, and Hafa rolled his eyes. " _Some_ of them, anyway," Makarim added hastily, noticing Hafa's displeasure.

"Oh? _Oohhh_. Should I take on the form of a man, instead? Would that be more pleasing?" the jann asked in earnest.

"N-no, you're fine the way you are, there's no need to change into anything," said Makarim, waving his hands. "But I think we're getting off topic. Why _did_ you lead us here, to King Solomon's tomb?"

The jann took a few steps forward, aware that Hafa's gaze was defensively locked on her movements. "Because I've been waiting for you to come. It's been _centuries_ , but you're finally here, so maybe my waiting has finally paid off."

Hafa frowned. This hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting, but then again, he didn't know _what_ he'd been expecting. "You've been waiting for me?" he asked doubtfully. "Why?"

The jann's big brown eyes blinked at Hafa confusedly before she burst into peals of laughter, light and playful. She composed herself and shook her head. "Not to be rude," she said, "but I wasn't talking to you. I'm referring to him," She pointed at Makarim, and like a chain reaction, Hafa turned toward Makarim and then Makarim pointed to himself for added reassurance. The jann nodded.

"W-wha- _Me_?" Makarim exclaimed. "Is this a joke? Why were you waiting for _me_?"

Lazily, the jann floated into the air, coming to rest on one of the many folds in King Solomon's robe. She crossed her legs. "Upon Solomon's death, I was contracted to inhabit this place, keep travelers away, and protect the grounds. Only descendants of Solomon are allowed to set foot here, but I haven't met very many. I am not allowed to leave until a descendant of Solomon who _also_ wears the Seal of Solomon sets me free."

Makarim listened patiently. "That's interesting, but I'm still not sure what it's got to do with me."

"Really?" the woman cocked her head, bobbing her leg up and down. "It isn't obvious?"

Hafa inched closer to Makarim, his expression grave. "I think she's implying that you are a descendant of King Solomon." he said, and Makarim let a laugh slip out.

"I think you're mistaken," Makarim said to the both of them with a reproachful smile. He regarded the jann on her stone perch. "I'm really sorry that you've been stuck here for so long, but I can't help you. My family comes from a long line of pottery craftsmen and merchants. We're as far from royalty as it gets."

"I'm not mistaken." the woman replied. "King Solomon had more wives than he could count, and even more concubines. I'm afraid his genetic seed spreads wide, if you'll forgive the term, and you are _most definitely_ his descendant. I wasn't given this job for nothing."

Makarim's smile faded and was replaced with a look of mild discomfort. "No, _really_ , I'm not- Haru, tell her!"

Hafa was chewing on the bend of his pointer finger in thought. Dots were beginning to connect in his mind, and as insane as all of this seemed, _it made sense_.

The marid met Makarim's eyes again. "It's entirely possible." he said, and Makarim's mouth opened in silent protest.

After a time of thoughtful silence, Makarim cleared his throat. "Okay, say that I _am_ a descendant of Solomon's. If what you say is true, then there must be hundreds of people out there that share his blood, right? So why are you bothering with me?"

"I said it before, didn't I?" The woman jumped down, hovering just slightly above the ground. "I've been waiting for a descendant who possesses the Seal of Solomon."

"I thought that was just a legend," Hafa said skeptically. The jann tossed him a dark look.

"Wait, hold on," Makarim interjected, sighing heavily, "isn't the Seal of Solomon a magic ring that could command djinn and control the elements? You're talking about _that_ seal?"

"Yes. And it's quite real," she said pointedly, flying up the length of the statue to knock her knuckles against the giant ring that adorned King Solomon's finger. "the Seal is the thing that binds me here. I saw it in action while Solomon was alive."

Hafa looked around. "Shouldn't it be buried somewhere in here, then?"

The jann rolled her eyes. "Yes, that would have been a _brilliant_ idea. Leave the ring with a jann whom you _enslaved_. Surely she won't take it to free herself and then possibly use its power to bring about the end of all humanity."

Makarim audibly gasped. "Would you have done that?"

Laughing, the woman shrugged. "I don't _think_ so, but you really never know." She sighed. "Anyway, Solomon didn't want to bequeath the ring to his son, because he wasn't confident that the ring's power wouldn't be abused. On his deathbed, he decided to present it to one of his many concubines with whom he'd had a son, disguised as an ordinary ring. He even plucked out the four jewels that were embedded in it- the jewels that controlled the elements of spirit, animal, wind and water- and scattered them. As far as I know, she passed it down to her son as a family heirloom. The ring became nothing more than an obscure legend after that."

"That's a nice story, but I still don't know what this has to do with me," Makarim said patiently. "I'm pretty sure if I had some sort of magic ring, I would know it."

"Makarim," Hafa nodded to the silver ring that circled Makarim's middle finger. "How long have you had that?"

Makarim stared at Hafa as though he had been betrayed. "Not you too, Haru!"

"How long?"

Fidgeting with the ring on his finger habitually, Makarim stared hard at the ground for several seconds. "It was a gift from my grandfather, my mother's father. He told me…" Makarim trailed off, sucked in breath, let it out, and shut his eyes. "He told me it had been passed down in his family for generations."

"And I bet it has four little indents on it, doesn't it?" the jann asked delightfully, tracing the stone representations of the jewels on Solomon's ring.

Makarim ran his finger over the indents. He had always wondered what those were there for.

"I… But it _can't_ -" The man looked very close to losing his footing, and Hafa immediately grabbed his shoulder and helped guide him to the floor, where they sat on a scrap of dilapidated carpet. The jann floated down, hovering near them in concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked, floating closer still, and Hafa did nothing to repel her, no longer finding her a threat. "It's cold, isn't it? Here," With a jerk of her wrist, the jann released a small flame from her hand, which descended to the cold floor and expanded, creating a small, self-sustaining fire. Hafa helped Makarim get closer to it, and stayed close by his side.

"Better?" she asked, and Makarim nodded daftly.

"Makarim, I think this explains some things," Hafa offered. "It could be the reason that Sharik tried to drown you when you were younger."

The jann squeaked. "Sharik?" she asked, lovely brown eyes wide. "An ifrit, right?"

Hafa's head snapped in the woman's direction. "You know him?"

"Sort of," she replied. "Many years ago, he came here. He wasn't the first djinn to ever stumble in, but he was definitely the most memorable. He was searching for the Seal of Solomon, and he would have destroyed me when I refused to give him any information if he hadn't been so weakened."

"Weakened?" Makarim repeated.

"He mentioned something about Solomon destroying a part of his essence, back when he was enslaved by him. He was practically a parasite when I met him. Still surprisingly powerful, however. He said he needed the ring to be complete again, or something like that."

"What else did he say?" Hafa asked eagerly. The jann smiled sadly.

"It was a long time ago. I don't remember much else, other than the fact that he wrecked a lot of the inner tombs in his search."

Makarim's eyes were trained on the fire. "How can I know if this is _really_ the Seal of Solomon?" he asked the jann, fingering the band.

She smiled a dazzling smile. "You could release me from my binding, for starters!" she chimed. "I think that would be proof enough, yes? A wise man once said," she brandished her finger in the air and screwed up her face in determination, " _Showing kindness to those less fortunate is the greatest power of all_."

"What wise man said that?" Hafa asked, and he was flashed another acid look.

Makarim nodded. "Okay. Tell me how to release you."

"Really?!" the jann exclaimed, leaping higher into the air and clasping her hands together joyously.

Hafa grabbed hold of Makarim's arm. "She might attack us if you release her now. We have to find a way out of here first."

"I would _never_!" the jann squeaked indignantly. Hafa ignored her. He knew well how tricky a trapped djinn could be.

Makarim smiled at Hafa softly. "Haru… I think you should know better than anyone what she must feel like. She's cursed, just like you. She's been trapped here for _centuries_ against her will. If releasing her is all I can do to make up for that, I need to do it."

The jann was bouncing in the air gleefully when Makarim turned to her, a sudden thought having popped into his head. "Oh! Before we try and release you, I have a question."

"I'm all ears," the woman chirped.

"If this _does_ turn out to be a magick ring, would it be possible to reverse _other_ kinds of curses? Say, if a djinn has been cursed into a mortal body?"

Hafa stared hard at Makarim, unsure of what to say. He felt the most peculiar mixture of affection, hope and disappointment, and he wasn't sure which emotion to focus on.

The jann floated closer to Hafa, looking him over. "Yes, I _was_ wondering how that happened. I've never seen a curse like that, myself, so I can't really tell you."

"I see," Makarim said, deflated.

" _But_ ," the jann started, still regarding Hafa with a discerning eye, "I would say that to achieve something like this, the djinn's essence would have to be locked away somewhere, in some kind of a magical object. If the object was found, it might be possible to reverse what's been done."

A week ago, this new-found hope would have made Hafa happy beyond words. Right now, it left him feeling numb and distressed, and this made him feel ashamed.

Makarim must have noticed how conflicted Hafa was feeling, because he cleared his throat and stood up, moving the conversation along. "Thank you for answering my question. Now, uhh, how do I go about releasing you? What do I have to do?"

The jann landed on the ground just in front of Makarim, her pale face flushed in excitement. "I don't know how it works. King Solomon just commanded djinn with words, and then the ring seemed to do the work. So, try saying outloud what you want to happen."

Hafa stood as well, defensively, half-expecting something to go wrong. Makarim glanced at the ring, light from the fire bouncing off of the dulled iron exterior. "Uhh… I… _Command…_ For this jann to be released from her imprisonment. She deserves to be free, so let her go."

Nothing happened for several seconds. Makarim was just about to try again, perhaps with a little more resolve, when suddenly the band began to burn red-hot around his finger, and Makarim yelped, resisting the urge to pull it free from his hand.

Hafa grabbed the man's wrist, meaning to pull the ring off himself, but Makarim stopped him.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt," he said with a reassuring smile. "It just surprised me."

Both men turned to where the jann had stood just moments ago, but she was gone. They were alone in the huge chamber, the small fire still burning brightly and warming their legs.

"Did it work?" Makarim asked, holding his hand tightly, the metal of the ring beginning to cool.

Hafa hummed. "You should have told her to show us the way out before letting her go. We could be stuck down here now."

"If I kept her prisoner one more minute just to benefit myself, I would be no better than the person who trapped her here in the first place," Makarim pointed out. "Besides, I think the exit is right over there, up those steps. Doesn't that feel like that's where the draft is coming from?"

Hafa regarded the narrow staircase on the other end of the chamber, nodding. "Probably. Let's just hope it hasn't caved in."

Makarim blanched. "I… I hadn't thought of that," he said miserably.

"Shouldn't have let her go," Hafa repeated. He glanced at the stairs, and then at the fire. "When was the last time you slept?" he asked suddenly.

"H-huh? Uhh…" Makarim counted quickly on his fingers. "Ah, well, I guess I didn't sleep last night." In response to the glare Hafa was leveling him, Makarim laughed nervously. "I didn't get the chance! Besides, I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine," Hafa accused. "You need to sleep before we go. It's at least a four hour trek back to the city from here, provided we don't lose our way. That also depends on how long it takes us to get out of here, if we _can_ get out of here. You'll faint from exhaustion long before then in this sun." Placing his hands on Makarim's shoulders, Hafa gently guided him to the floor, near the fire. "Take a rest."

"Haru, no," Despite his resistance, Makarim did nothing to stop Hafa from sitting him down, but he circled his hands around Hafa's wrists. "If all of this is true, then what you said before makes sense. Sharik might know I have the ring. And if he's in control of the Prince's body, then what if my family is in danger? I can't just sit by while-"

"You're no good to your family if you can't make it back to them. Take an hour to sleep, and then we'll go."

"But-"

"The longer you argue, the longer it will take to get out of here."

"You two are _adorable_ ," rang the jann's voice from above them, and both Hafa and Makarim started badly. "But the cursed one is right, you should sleep. You look exhausted."

"Y-You! I thought that…?"

"Don't worry, it worked. I'm free." the jann said, peeking at them from just behind Solomon's head. "But I wanted to say 'thank you', so I went outside and got this for you." The jann tossed a leather bag to Hafa, one of the bags that Makarim had packed. Hafa opened it to find water and a bit of food, along with some other odds and ends.

"T-Thank you," Makarim sputtered.

"Your camel is getting impatient, too, so keep your nap short," she said with a grin and wink, and then she was gone.

It didn't take long to convince Makarim to get some sleep. After drinking some water and eating a bit of bread, Makarim passed out near the fire. Hafa watched him for a time before going to investigate the stairs, which led to a hidden entrance at the rear of the graveyard. The stairs were worn and crumbling but perfectly useable, and when Hafa was certain that their way out was secure, he rejoined Makarim in the inner chamber and waited patiently for him to get some well-deserved rest.

He resisted the urge to touch the man's face, his mouth, or brush the hair away from his eyes. Touching him, even if he knew the gesture was welcome, seemed wrong now. Makarim wore the Seal of Solomon, a magick item stronger than anything known to djinn. With it, Makarim wanted to help Hafa retrieve his lost form. Although Hafa knew that he should feel grateful, he couldn't help but feel dejected.

Over the last few years, Hafa had felt that what was left of his consciousness as a djinn had turned to sand, and he was diligently trying to hold it in his hands. Everytime he was jostled, the sand would trickle through the gaps in his fingers, a little at a time, slipping away from him to never return. The last seven days had been particularly turbulent, and he had had lost so much sand that he felt like he was holding onto nothing more than a few grains. Without realizing it, he had been getting comfortable in his skin. He had been coming to terms with staying human. Being near to Makarim made this prospect an easier one to bear, and this terrified him.

Hafa watched Makarim's steady breathing, trying to dispel these conflicting thoughts. They weren't any use to him now, not when there were much more serious things to consider. Sharik was in control of Rim's body, and quite possibly on the hunt for the Seal.

If that was accurate, then it was very possible that Makarim's family was in danger.

.

.

.

The city streets thinned out as the day wore on. The sun had lowered in the sky, leaving the city streaked with red hues that were slowly being replaced by darkness. They hadn't had a customer in hours, so Rani and Ru'a went about closing up the shop with Reem and Najiya's help. As thanks for their diligent work, the twins invited the men to dinner at their family house. Although Reem was hesitant to intrude, Najiya enthusiastically accepted. Reem relented only when he felt his hunger take Najiya's side.

Makarim's father had come by the shop with a shipment of materials just as the company was preparing to leave. Tahiyah was a kind man with a gentle disposition and a tired smile; his skin was darkened from the sun and dusted with sand, his hands weathered from a life of hard work. The twins introduced the two men to their father with glowing praise, and to their mutual relief, Tahiyah seemed to be just as easygoing as his children, and was more than willing to have them both for dinner.

Reem and Najiya helped Tahiyah lug the materials to the basement, and then followed the family home to help with dinner. The twins insisted that their guests relax while they cooked the meal, and ushered the men out of the kitchen in order to prepare.

The meal was nearing its end when Tahiyah suggested that Reem and Najiya rest at his home that night.

"Stay the night?" Najiya asked in surprise, mouth half-full of rice. "Are you _sure_?"

"We really couldn't impose," Reem said seriously.

"I insist," Tahiyah said. "It's late, and you've spent your day helping my children. You must be exhausted."

"And you said yourself that you didn't know where you were going to stay tonight!" Ru'a accused, and Rani nodded earnestly. Reem opened his mouth to object, but Rani cut him off.

"We weren't eavesdropping, we just heard you from the other room!" he offered as means of an explanation.

"That's the same thing, I think," Najiya pointed out with a grin.

"My children _may_ have mentioned this to me earlier." Tahiyah admitted with a chuckle. "You can sleep in the loft, if the both of you don't mind sharing a space."

"Not at all!" Najiya chimed, and Reem could practically _feel_ his blush spread to his neck.

"Thank you so much for your kindness," Reem said.

Tahiyah turned to his children. "If you two are done, it's off to the kitchen to clean up," he said, and although the twins initially resisted and begged to stay and chat with their houseguests, their father leveled them a look and they begrudgingly complied. Ru'a and Rani cleared away some of the unused plates and utensils on the table and hurried to the kitchen, where hushed arguments on where the plates should go and how they should be cleaned could be heard faintly.

"I should thank you again for helping my children so much today," Tahiyah started, and all at once Reem and Najiya realized from his tone that the man had sent his children away for a reason. "It was really very kind of you. You could have waited for my son to return without having gone to such trouble."

"It was no trouble," Reem said.

"To be honest it wasn't that much work, we just ended up talking a lot." Najiya laughed.

Tahiyah sat back in his chair. "My son has never mentioned either of you," he said, eyes moving deliberately from one man to the other, causing them both to tense, "but you claim to be his friends. That is unusual."

Reem seemed to be at a loss for words, and although he hated himself for encouraging Najiya to lie, he turned to Najiya with a silent plea for a magical explanation.

"We actually just met not too long ago," Najiya admitted, which was basically the truth, if not skirting some minor details. "So I guess you could say we're _new_ friends."

The man's gaze moved back to Reem and locked on his carefully concealed outfit. "Very new, as I would assume my son would have mentioned befriending a soldier of the palace." he said, and Reem stiffened. Tahiyah craned his head to observe Reem's pants. "Forgive me, an _officer_."

Both Najiya and Reem fell into an uncomfortable silence. They weren't sure whether they were being reprimanded or whether this was simply idle conversation, but for the moment, neither man could think of anything to say that wouldn't just raise more questions.

"Why exactly do you need to see Makarim so badly? Is he in some sort of trouble?" Tahiyah asked, lowering his voice for fear of the twins overhearing.

"No, he's in no trouble, sir!" Najiya replied adamantly.

"We don't mean him any harm, if that is what you're concerned with," Reem said meekly.

Tahiyah relaxed, his expression softening. "I'm sorry to ask such questions, but you must know how this looks," he said with an apologetic smile. "If you are to stay under this roof for any amount of time, I insist you honor my household with honesty. I would like to know why exactly you want to talk to my son."

Reem and Najiya exchanged a look that translated effortlessly. _Where do we possibly begin_?

Najiya grimaced. "It's kind of complicated."

"Is it that Haru fellow?" Tahiyah asked curiously. "Is he wanted by the law?"

It had stood to reason that if the twins knew about Haru, their father most likely did as well, but this possibility hadn't occurred to either man until this very moment.

"You know Haru?" Reem asked.

"I didn't meet him, but Makarim told me of him several days ago. He said he had found a traveler outside the city, he said he'd almost expired out there. He wouldn't tell me much else. I thought that strange."

Najiya sighed. "Well, it's Haru that we're really looking for, sir. We weren't lying, though! We _are_ friends of your sons. But Haru is missing, and we thought that perhaps Makarim knew where to find him."

"Is Haru in some sort of trouble, then? Is my son associating with a criminal?" Tahiyah asked, concerned.

Reem wasn't sure how to answer. If the Prince considered Haru dead, than perhaps it wouldn't be a lie to say that Haru was _not_ in any trouble with the law. The entire situation was so ridiculously insane to begin with, he couldn't be sure that anything he said pertaining to it could be considered true or false.

"Haru is someone important," Reem chose to say. "Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din is in trouble, and we believe that Haru is able to help. I'm sorry that I can't be more specific."

Tahiyah regarded Reem evenly with an air of understanding that made his stomach coil with guilt. Reem exhaled.

"In all honesty, sir," Reem began, "I'm not strictly acting on behalf of the Prince. I'm acting of my own accord, and it is a real possibility that the Prince would condemn my actions. As such, I would understand completely if you were to expel us from your home." he finished, bowing his head respectfully.

"Please don't turn us in!" Najiya squeaked, clasping his hands together.

Tahiyah regarded the two of them with surprise, until a soft smile lit up his face. "What kind of example to my children would I be if I were to do something like that?" he said, and Reem looked up in alarm.

"Sir?"

"I trust my son's judgement. He's out searching for this Haru person, which means he believes him to be important, and worth the trouble. Whatever's going on must be bigger than I thought." Tahiyah sighed heavily. "This city isn't what it used to be. I don't want my children growing up here the way things are now… If something doesn't change, nothing will get better." He surveyed the two men carefully. "I've always taught my children to do the right thing. If Makarim trusts Haru, and you two as well, then I have to believe that is what's best. A step toward a positive change."

Reem and Najiya sat in silence, both of them significantly at a loss for words before a shout from the kitchen shattered the moment.

"Don't _shove_ , Ru'a!"

"Do you _have_ to be so close? Move over there and grab the towel, stop hovering around me!"

Tahiyah chuckled. "Well, I suppose 'doing the right thing' doesn't always account for sibling scuffles."

.

.

.

The loft was warmer than the rest of the house, and had obviously been used for storage for many years judging by the amount of boxes and dusty antiques that littered the floor. Much of this was moved aside to make room for blankets and sheep-skin pillows, and Reem thanked Tahiyah for his hospitality so many times that Najiya had to physically shove Reem up the ladder in order to shut him up.

After the twins enthusiastically said their goodnights, the lights were extinguished and the house was left in darkness. Reem and Najiya had both gotten as comfortable as their dusty space would allow and were as silent as the rest of the house. Reem was finding it particularly hard to sleep, his mind whirling with thoughts and worries. He slipped fitfully in and out of sleep for close to an hour before he heard muffled footsteps approach his makeshift bed, and a warm body was wiggling under his blanket and pressing against his back.

Reem was awake immediately, rolling over to view the bed invader. "Najiya?" he whispered. "What's wrong?"

It was almost impossible to see in the darkness without his eye glasses, but he could vaguely make out Najiya's large eyes shining at him with a woeful expression.

"I can't sleep." Najiya explained in a hushed voice. "Can I sleep over here with you?"

"I'm not against it," Reem admitted, grateful to the darkness for concealing what was undoubtedly a blush. "But I'm not sure that's decent, in someone else's home-"

"No kissing, then," Najiya whispered playfully, pulling Reem a bit closer and planting his lips firmly on his cheek.

"What would you call that?" Reem accused.

Najiya grinned. "No kissing on the _lips_ , I meant."

" _Najiya…_ "

"I really don't like sleeping alone," Najiya said, pressing his face into Reem's chest. "I really hate it. I've always hated it."

Reem wasn't sure what to say, so he wrapped an arm around Najiya and pulled him in closer.

"Why is that?" Reem finally asked.

Najiya didn't move or speak for some time. If he hadn't been nuzzling Reem's chest every now and again, he might have thought that the boy had fallen asleep.

"My family used to always sleep together. We didn't have a very big house, it was really just two rooms: the kitchen and the _everything else_. There were four of us kids, so it was just easier if we all slept together in the middle of the room to keep warm." Najiya's voice was muffled and hard to discern, but Reem listened with rapt attention, catching every word. "Sickness took my father, and two of my sisters. My other sister was sold into marriage, and I'm not sure _where_ she is now. My mother was the last to go. She got sick, and we didn't have enough money for water or food…" He exhaled a breath against Reem's skin and shook his head. "I really miss them, but I missed sleeping with all of them even more. I felt so safe and protected."

Reem's heart felt very much like it was suffocating, if such a thing was possible, and he was once again miserably lacking words to relay his thoughts. Najiya was such a source of warmth and energy, it was hard to believe that he had suffered so much loss.

Najiya pulled his head from Reem's chest and propped himself up on his elbows. "Your heart's beating like crazy, Reem! I didn't upset you, did I?" he asked worriedly, and Reem reached out and pulled Najiya into a firm embrace. Najiya did nothing to resist, but gratefully took to hiding his face in the bend of Reem's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Najiya," Reem breathed. "I didn't know-"

"Hey, _I'm_ sorry I put all of that on you out of no where," Najiya said with a muffled chuckle. "You don't have to apologize for anything. None of it was your fault, anyway."

Reem shook his head. "No, I'm glad you told me. I want to know everything about you. Please don't concern yourself with my needs right now."

"Geez, you're always so proper, Reem," Najiya laughed, but Reem heard a sniffle. Several, in fact.

They lay there like that for several minutes in a haze of heightened emotions and sleepiness. Najiya shifted only slightly to convey that he was not yet asleep, and Reem re-adjusted his hold.

"Are you still awake?" Najiya whispered.

"Yes."

"I'm really scared for everyone, Reem." Najiya's words were heavy and slightly slurred.

"I know." Reem answered.

"Reem?"

"Mm?"

"I hope that everything turns out okay. I don't want anyone to die."

Reem didn't respond. It was partly because he wasn't sure what to say, but chiefly because Najiya's breathing had become soft and even with sleep.

.

.

.

The men in the loft were awoken by a sudden crash and a scream.

Reem bolted upright and was already dressing and arming himself before Najiya had even confusedly rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"What's goin' on?" Najiya asked tiredly, straining to listen to the voices floating from down below. Reem motioned for him to be quiet and found a safe place from the loft to peer down.

To his horror, he saw that the front door of the house had been broken in half and was still swaying gently on its hinges, and three black-clad soldiers had invaded the home, pointing spears at Tahiyah. Ru'a was huddled behind her father, but Rani had been grabbed by one of the Holy Guard, his upper arm held tight as he vainly struggled. The men were all speaking urgently, but it was hard to hear them from his perch in the loft. Najiya crawled up next to Reem and stifled a gasp.

"What are they doing!" he whispered, aghast. "Are they here for you? How could they have known…?" Reem shook his head.

"I don't know. Keep still for now, I'm trying to hear them."

"-still don't understand what it is you want. My son has nothing to do with this, so please-" Tahiyah was trying his best to be calm, and Reem was shocked that he hadn't pointed the guards in his direction yet. Reem didn't consider his safety worthy of putting anyone at risk, least of all a _child_.

"Things will go a lot more smoothly if you tell us where he is." one of the guards said, tipping his spear toward Rani, who froze up immediately.

"I've told you already," Tahiyah said earnestly, " _I don't know_ -"

Reem couldn't let this go on. He wouldn't allow someone to protect him to the point of risking his own children. "I'm going down," Reem whispered, turning to Najiya. "You need to find Haru-"

" _No_ , Reem, there has to be something-"

Rani cried out, and both men turned to see the tip of the spear prodding the boy's throat.

"Tell us where the one called Makarim is!" one of the guards shouted. "We have orders from the Prince to find him at _any cost_. We will not hesitate to kill this child."

Reem and Najiya ceased their hushed talking, unsure if they had heard correctly. They were here for Makarim? Of all people, why was the Prince looking for _him_?

Without a second thought, Reem took hold of the ladder and slid down, landing hard on the floor and attracting the attention of the guards, who immediately brandished their spears in his direction. Their aim collectively slackened when Reem flashed them a severe look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Reem announced, searching each of the men's faces for recognition. None of them were his subordinates, which put him at a disadvantage. They seemed to recognize his uniform all the same, although they remained suspicious.

"We're here on behalf of Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din, to arrest Makarim Ibn-Tahiyah. We have strict orders to-"

"I know, I'm aware of the order," Reem lied, wishing he could be half as convincing as Najiya tended to be when it came to untruths. "I am here for the same reason. You're wasting your time threatening these vermin, I've already made the arrest. Makarim was hiding in the back room." He jabbed a thumb at the closed door behind him. He had no earthly idea what that door was used for, but there weren't many other places a grown man could feasibly hide.

The guard holding onto Rani narrowed his eyes at Reem. His uniform was slightly altered to stand out above the rest, and Reem realized he was most likely speaking to the General of their squad. "I wasn't aware that the Prince sent an officer to make the arrest _alone_. I wonder why he didn't alert us." the man said with an air of menace.

"Perhaps there are many things the Prince decides not to mention," Reem said, feeling that he was quickly losing control over the situation. He had to keep them talking, at least until he figured out what to do. "Go on then, and apprehend him. Let the boy go, he's of no further use to you."

The man yanked Rani closer still, and Rani let out a whimper, the guard's hold intensifying. "The Prince's orders are to arrest all _three_ of the children." the man said with a grin.

"What!" Tahiyah exclaimed, outraged. "You _can't_ , they're only-"

"That's ridiculous!" Reem shouted. "You have misunderstood your orders, and should be reprimanded _fiercely_ for your error. What use could the Prince have for arresting _children_?"

The General smirked. "I think it's _you_ who has misunderstood the order. We take our orders directly from the Prince, and he has given the Holy Guard permission to uphold the law at our discretion. Which means we outrank you, _Agha_." With his free hand the General motioned to the man behind him. "Search the back room for Makarim, see if this man speaks the truth. He'll be arrested either way, for treason."

Tahiyah lurched forward and grabbed a sizeable flint cutting knife from the table, advancing on one of the Holy Guard. The surprise of the ambush lowered the General's guard for the briefest of moments, but Reem acted quickly and grabbed Rani, wrenching him away and pulling free his own sword. Rani made a dash for his sister, and the two of them pressed against the wall as the fight broke out.

Reem had not had combat practice in some time, but the techniques and theories were something that he reviewed regularly in his mind, and although rusty, he felt he could at least fend off the men long enough to ensure an escape. Calculations were murmured under his breath as he struck his steel against the length of their spears, and with a tilt of his wrist and a flinging upward motion he had successfully thrown two men off-balance.

At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to fend them off for long. Already Reem's breaths were quickening and the blows from his combatants were becoming more powerful as they could feel his strength waning. He narrowly avoided a jab to his chest, and the spear plunged into the wall behind him as Reem dodged. He staggered back, fighting to catch his breath.

"Tahiyah! Your children-" Reem urged, deflecting another blow. Tahiyah was struggling with one of the guards, his flint knife having drawn blood on the man's upper arm. He was not a man built for battle, and he was currently fighting purely defensively. "Go to them! Get them out!"

"And- And leave you to fight three of them?" Tahiyah gasped. "They'll overpower you in no time-"

"Don't worry about that!" Reem shouted, frustrated. He knew it was true. It was a miracle he was keeping up as it was.

Watching from above, Najiya waited for a clear opportunity before he half-climbed, half-jumped to the floor. He tore off toward the twins and grabbed their hands, pulling insistently while still keeping an eye on the chaos. "Is there another door around back?" he asked them, but both children were fixed in terror, watching the scene unfold with unmoving gazes. Najiya stepped into their line of sight, tapping Rani's face with three fingers in urgency. "Hey!" he shouted, and both of them jumped. "We need to get out of here! Is there another way out?"

"We- We can't go without father!" Ru'a announced, tears glazing over her eyes. Rani nodded resolutely.

"Your father isn't over there fighting for _nothing_!" Najiya exclaimed in earnest. "Your safety comes first, and as long as you're here, those two can't escape either! Now _please_ , tell me there's another way out!"

Ru'a pointed wordlessly to the door Reem had indicated earlier, and Najiya seized both of their wrists in one hand and pulled them quickly toward the door.

Seeing the children flee, the guard wrestling with Tahiyah used a massive burst of strength to throw the man off of him and pursued them. Tahiyah launched himself at the man in a last ditch effort to buy them time, and the both of them went crashing to the floor. Najiya threw the door open just as they heard the scrape of metal on wood and a shout of pain.

The commotion had attracted the attention of the entire room. Groaning, the guard pulled himself up from the floor and his blade from Tahiyah's chest. The flint dagger was lodged in the guard's shoulder, and with a yelp he pulled it free and let it fall to the floor next to Tahiyah's lifeless body.

Reem stared, unbelieving. He felt like he was staring at the body for seconds- no, _minutes_ before a spear reappeared just ahead and he violently knocked it aside with a furious yell.

" _Get them out of here_!" Reem cried, his throat tight with anger and tears, snapping Najiya and the twins out of their horrified trance. Ru'a screamed and Rani fought against Najiya's grip in an effort to go to their father, but Najiya steeled himself and pulled them both through the door, shutting it firmly behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Long over-due_ notes on some Arabic myths/terms:
> 
>  **Ibn-:** Arabic names rarely (? if at all?) have surnames, instead your surname is the name of your father. So Makarim's name is Makarim Ibn-Tahiyah. Ibn- translates to 'son of' (as does 'bin') so literally it means Makarim, son of Tahiyah. (Feel free to correct me about any of this, but I'm fairly sure this is all correct.)
> 
>  **Marid:** A powerful type of djinn (arguably the _most_ powerful) that is often associated with water or oceans. Marids are generally curious about humans, and most closely resemble the wish-granting, lamp-residing type Genie seen in modern films and culture. (Although all djinns have the ability to grant wishes)
> 
>  **Ifrit:** Another powerful djinn that are harder to control than the Marid and have a history of ultimately being jerks to humans. They are mischievous and not to be trusted, generally.
> 
>  **Jann:** Just as Hafa described, a Jann is a weaker djinn who is able to shape-shift and take the form of white camels and whirlwinds. They have the power to reveal oases in the desert or lead people astray. They were the first djinn to encounter humans, and tend to be open-minded about them.
> 
>  **King Solomon:** (Also sometimes called _Jedidiah_ ) As far as history is concerned, Solomon really existed, though his reign was not as mighty or magical as the legends make it seem. Not much concrete information is known about Solomon aside from the myths and biblical accounts from the Quran. But the legends are believed by plenty of people, and he remains a prominent figure in Islamic culture. 
> 
> **the Seal of Solomon:** Solomon's magical ring that was gifted to him from God himself, and set with four jewels that allowed him command over all Djinn and the elements. The ring was said to be made of iron and copper, and concealed within the metals, the Seal itself. (Also known as the Star of David in Jewish texts.) As far as I could find, the whereabouts of Solomon's ring after his death are a mystery, as his son did not inherit it.
> 
> Whew. If you read all of that, I think you're awesome. I think I've learned more about history just from researching stuff for this fanfic then I ever did in school.
> 
> Also, a quick thank you to everyone reading my story. Your support and wonderful comments keep me writing. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hafa and Makarim finally return to the city, Makarim deals with a tragedy, and Rim tries to fight back to himself.

They found themselves in Tahiyah's work room.

Clay, dust, bundles of tools and dishes littered several tables and a workbench, the heaviest of which Najiya immediately grabbed and pushed with all his might up against the door. Out of breath and buttoning down his panic, he viewed the room for an escape route. There were several windows lining the highest points on the walls, wrapping around the room to strategically let in as much natural light as possible, but there was no way they were climbing out of those any time soon. The only option seemed to be a larger window that was boarded up firmly with heavy slabs of wood.

Ru'a was crying, sitting on her knees near the door, and Rani had been kicking at Najiya's shins now for several seconds before Najiya realized, a particularly savage blow snapping the blonde from his incredibly focused thoughts.

" _We left him_!" Rani was shouting through angry tears, face flushed scarlet. "We have to go back for him, father's still out there, _he's still out there_ -"

It was hard to get a firm hold on Rani's shoulders for all his thrashing. Although he felt sickeningly wicked, Najiya slapped Rani smartly across the face. Rani ceased all movement, eyes wide and mouth slack, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks.

"Listen to me!" Najiya shouted, and even Ru'a's crying faded to silence behind them, "I'm _so_ sorry, I really am, but if we don't get out of here, your father's sacrifice will have been for _nothing_ , do you understand? Reem is still out there fighting for us so that we can get away, so right now you need to pull yourself together and help me pry open that window."

Rani sniffed back tears, glossy eyes glancing at the window, and then falling on his twin.

"Can you do that?" Najiya asked, more gently, giving Rani's shoulders a squeeze. He nodded mutely, his expression dissolving into one of stoic determination. Najiya's stomach was searing with guilt; he'd seen that look before, the look of a child growing up in a single instant, left with no other choice. He'd seen it every day after his father died in the eyes of his sisters.

Ru'a appeared at her brother's side, head bowed, a plank of old wood in her hands. "Will this help?" she asked, her voice still trembling. Najiya placed his hand on her head.

"That's perfect. Come on, let's try."

Najiya could hear angry voices on the other side of the door. A tremendous _slam_ nearly broke their focus as they worked to pry free the boards on the window, the enthusiastic sounds of someone attempting to break the door down. The door creaked and Najiya heard a crack.

"Keep going!" Najiya grunted, watching the nails pull free from the window. He wasn't sure how much longer the door would hold up, but from the sounds of it, they didn't have long.

.  
.

Reem was depending solely on defensive maneuvering. Fending off the opposing blows from two able-bodied soldiers was draining him of all his stamina, and he would have been grateful that the third guard was not engaging him if it weren't for the fact that he was busy trying to break down the door behind the ladder.

The body of Tahiyah lay as still as when he had fallen moments ago, and Reem was doing everything in his power not to be sick. There was an infernal ringing in his ears every time his attention was diverted toward the corpse, a burning in his stomach that was threatening to compromise his defense. He couldn't help but feel guilty for not being able to save him, though he knew there was little he could have done. All he could do at this point was ensure the safety of the twins in his honor.

Both of the guards attempted to strike in an alternating rhythm, but Reem's arm was fast and his eye was even faster. Speed alone wasn't enough to rely on; one of the men's blows managed to knock him off balance as the other man tore his weapon across Reem's right side.

Reem grunted and fell backwards, blood splattering onto the wall behind him. Before he could right himself, the tip of a spear was pointed at his throat. He followed the gleam of the shining steel to the face of the General, who was sufficiently winded but sporting a masterful grin.

"In the name of Prince Rim Ibn-Majd al Din, you are under arrest," he panted, pressing the spear's tip tauntingly against Reem's neck, drawing forth a bead of blood. Reem glared at him defiantly, and he would have spit at the man's feet had he been in the position to do so. The General sneered. "If anything, I want to see the look on your face as we execute those brats."

As he spoke the words, there was a massive _crack_ and the splintering of wood, along with the rough sound of something heavy being scooted along the floor. The door had been broken down, and Tahiyah's murderer was stepping through, sword at the ready. The other two guards watched him silently, awaiting a scream or perhaps a scuffle. Reem's heart was hammering against his ribcage so loudly he was sure it could be heard throughout the house. Furtively he glanced around himself, looking for anything he could use to distract or defend, his eyes coming to rest on a large, pear-shaped vase with two curved handles on the neck.

The guard returned a moment later, gripping his shoulder wound, his face red with rage. "They escaped through the window!" he shouted. The General scowled.

"After them, you idiot!" he spat, and turned back to Reem. "You! You will tell us where-"

With lightening-fast speed Reem grabbed the vase, swinging it just as the spear lunged; he deflected the weapon narrowly and swung a second time, this time launching the vase at the General. It shattered upon impact, hundreds of pieces of hardened clay flying in every direction as the guards shielded their faces. Reem was through the front door and gone before the broken shards could even find the floor.

.

.

.

Hafa woke Makarim when the moon was highest in the sky.

His camel was waiting for them patiently just outside the hollow ground. The two men were able to leave the crypt easily through the route that Hafa had secured, and they wasted no time starting in the direction of the city.

They had been walking for little more than an hour when a familiar white entity greeted them in the distance, helping to guide their way.

"I wish she'd told us her name, at least," Makarim mused as they walked, the pale silhouette vanishing in its usual way and then reappearing at the farthest point on the horizon. "She's helped us quite a bit when she didn't really have to."

"Djinn don't typically give up their names so easily," Hafa reminded. "Their name is the thing that binds their essence. It's the only thing that controls them."

"Oh, that's right," Makarim nodded. "My grandfather told me all about that." He looked up at the moon as if pondering on something. "So, the name you gave me when we first met- Hafa- that's not your real name?"

Hafa's eyes were focused downward at the spots he planned to step. "No." He felt oddly guilty for the omission, though he knew it was nothing to fret over. It had been only natural at the time. "Not my _full_ name."

Makarim seemed to notice Hafa's discomfort immediately. "That's alright, Haru, your name is important to you. If my name was my _soul_ , I would keep it safe and hidden, too. You have to protect it, right?" Hafa nodded.

"I suppose."

The chill that hung in the night air clung to the men like a damp cloth. Makarim blew warm breath into his hands and rubbed them together before stuffing his fists into the folds of his thawb to keep them warm.

"Haru?"

Hafa hummed a reply, and Makarim fixed his eyes on the other man firmly. "You said 'them'. When talking about their names, you referred to djinn as 'them'."

Hafa stopped walking. Makarim followed his lead, staring at him with worry. "You're a djinn too, Haru. Are you… Are you forgetting?"

There was nothing to be done for it even if he was, so there was little point in talking about it. Hafa resumed his pace, his expression as unperturbed as it ever was.

"I'm not forgetting," Hafa said as Makarim caught up with him, "It's just sometimes hard to remember."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Makarim asked worriedly.

Hafa didn't answer. There _was_ a difference, he knew there was, he just wasn't sure if the difference even mattered anymore.

.

.

.

They returned to the city later than they'd hoped. Their jann companion disappeared along with the moon, and the sun had risen by the time they could see the city looming in the distance. Although they were tired and sore from their trek, Makarim picked up the pace during the final stretch. His anxiety over the welfare of his family had grown ten-fold over the last few hours, and so the men pressed on, entering the city to the hustle and bustle of the early-morning marketplace.

"I feel terrible," Makarim groaned as they made their way through the streets, sticking close to the side-roads as much as possible, for fear of Hafa being spotted by someone from the palace. "I left my siblings to open the shop for me _two mornings_ in a row. I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"Once we explain everything, I'm sure they won't be mad," Hafa said. He had spent several days seeing Makarim and his younger siblings interact, and he had seen enough to know that there was not a force on earth that could sully those twins against their cherished older brother.

When they reached the shop, Makarim immediately noticed something was wrong. The tables were not set, and the display window was firmly shut. Hafa could see the color drain from Makarim's face as they examined the front door; it was broken nearly in half, and the inside didn't look much better. Makarim's belongings were strewn over the floor and tables, pots were broken, and much of the living comforts from Makarim's bedroom upstairs were now on the ground level. Before Hafa could stop him, Makarim was tearing out of the shop, heading for his father's house.

Hafa caught up to him within seconds, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulling him into an alley. To his surprise, Makarim batted his hands away.

"What are you doing?" Makarim demanded angrily. "Someone was _looking_ for me, they tore the damn shop apart, I have to check on my father and the twins-"

" _Think_ for just a second," Hafa hissed, grabbing a fistful of Makarim's clothing. "If they're looking for you, they're liable to _find_ you if you're running around in the streets. We have to be careful. Don't just run in blindly, or we'll be caught and you'll be no good to your family at all."

Hafa watched Makarim's demeanour slacken as the realization sunk in. He swallowed, and nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'll be more careful." Hafa nodded and released him. The two of them made their way down the alley, taking the unused back roads to Makarim's father's home.

There was a sour quality to the air surrounding the house when they arrived. Hafa felt it strongly the moment the building came into view. He knew the smell, the pungent bitterness of death, the soundlessness that surrounded an area where a tragedy had occurred. His every bone was buzzing as they carried on, and Hafa found himself afraid of what they were to find.

When the coast was clear, the men snuck around the side of the house. Makarim hurried to the front door and tripped over the broken pieces of wood that laid over the threshold, landing on hands and knees several feet away from a body.

Hafa entered after him, but both of them were frozen as they regarded the body laid out on the floor on its stomach, a sticky pool of dark crimson gathered around the man's chest and arm. A hoarse gasp left Makarim's throat.

"F-father?" he croaked. Willing his body to move, Makarim attempted to stand but his knees failed him. " _No…_ How did this…"

Hafa tentatively stepped forward, kneeling over the body. He didn't need to check for a pulse to see that Makarim's father had been dead for at least a couple of hours. He met Makarim's eyes, which were blown open and unbelieving, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Hafa said, barely above a whisper, and a sob caught in Makarim's throat. He moved to his father's side, touching his shoulder gently before pulling his hand away, the limpness and cold of the body startling him. Makarim covered his eyes and cried, his shoulders jerking with unruly, muffled sobs. Hafa allowed him a moment, aware that they were in more danger than ever, but not so heartless as to suggest they move on right away.

Makarim lowered his hand, his eyes wide and wet with tears, a sudden fear etching his face. "Rani and Ru'a!" he cried. He tried to stand but Hafa had a hand firmly planted on his shoulder before he could manage it.

"Don't move yet. Stay right here, I'll search the house." Hafa promised softly.

The search didn't take long. The house was small, everything snug and close together. Hafa found nothing of any interest until he forced open another broken door behind the ladder which had been barricaded from the inside by a large work desk. A window had been pried open, planks of wood still attached to the wall but hanging loosely. Hafa pushed the desk away from the doorway. It was staggeringly heavy; there was no way that children their age could have moved it all by themselves. They had help.

When Hafa exited the room, Makarim was sitting next to his father's body, holding tight to his hand. Makarim peered up at Hafa with imploring eyes, and Hafa shook his head.

"They're not here." Hafa said, which only gave the both of them a twinge of relief. "They escaped through the boarded-off window in the work room back here."

"Through the… Father keeps that window boarded off to keep the wind out, that would have been _incredibly_ hard to open." Makarim's gaze faltered and fell. "He _used_ to." he corrected himself.

"I think someone was with them," Hafa said, crossing the room and kneeling next to a shattered pot. He noted the wall, where a thin spray of blood had nearly dried.

"Someone? Who?" Makarim asked. Hafa glanced up at the ladder toward the back of the room.

"What's up there?"

"That's the loft. Father used it for storage."

Hafa climbed the ladder and stepped onto the landing, shoes sinking into warm hay. There were two spots where bedding had been laid out, boxes and other items recently cleared out of the way to make room. Guests had stayed the night, from the looks of it, and Hafa discovered who those guests might have been when he bent over to pick up a familiar green head-veil topped with a golden adornment.

"Najiya and Reem were here," Hafa said, jumping down to the ground floor, Najiya's veil in hand. Makarim blinked at Hafa in surprise.

"How did they even _get_ here?"

"No idea. But they're probably protecting the twins, so we need to go find them." Hafa cast a sympathetic look over the scene. "It isn't safe here…"

"I know," Makarim said, giving his father's hand a squeeze before letting go. "I know. I just hate… _Leaving_ him here…"

There rose a melancholy silence. Despite the urgency of the situation, Hafa had an idea. It was the least they could do under the circumstances, although it still wasn't much.

Makarim located a large quilt from the loft- Tahiyah's favorite, he said - and he and Hafa gingerly wrapped the man up in it. They carried Tahiyah carefully to his bed and set him there, a much more dignified place to rest, and Makarim placed on his chest freshly cut flowers that Hafa had found in a vase in the kitchen.

"I wish I could have met him," Hafa said honestly as the two of them stood on either side of the bed. Makarim's eyes were shining with water again, and he wiped his eyes on the back of his arm.

"He was the best father I could have asked for," Makarim said. Hafa was sure he could see his shoulders trembling again. "He didn't deserve to die like this."

Hafa dropped his gaze. "We should go."

Makarim nodded, just barely.

They left.

At the first sign of a palace soldier- a _strangely_ dressed soldier, black-clad and sporting a golden shield and spear- they ducked behind a vegetable stand, waiting until the coast was clear to continue on. Having no idea where the twins might be, Hafa and Makarim had decided to head toward the heart of the city when Hafa noticed they were being followed. The pursuer was dressed in a long brown cloak belonging to the lower class, but there was no doubt their movements were being watched as the figure drew ever closer. With a glance, Hafa alerted Makarim, and the two of them led their stalker into a back street just next to a meat trolley and a particularly loud salesman. To Hafa's relief, their follower was hot on their trail.

No sooner had Hafa grabbed the figure by the front of their cloak and slammed the pursuer into a wall did a surprised squeak escape the covered hood, a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. Hafa loosened his grip.

"Najiya?"

Blonde hair and boyish burgundy eyes flashed as Najiya pulled back his hood, out of breath and possibly a little sore.

"Of course!" Najiya huffed as Hafa apologetically released him. "I've been following you guys for _ten minutes_! I was _trying_ to wait until you'd gone somewhere a little more private before stopping you." He paused, and Hafa could see a tremble in the boy's lower lip. For the second time since they met a week ago, Najiya threw his arms around Hafa, squeezing him tightly. "I can't believe it's really you!" he cried, as Hafa awkwardly accepted the embrace, " _Haru_! Aini said you'd been killed! Were you really _dead_? Can you come back to life with magic?"

Hafa gently pried Najiya off of him, allowing him a moment to compose himself. "I'll explain myself later, I promise." he said, and Najiya smiled and nodded. The blonde turned his attention to Makarim, his smile fading, replaced with utmost sympathy.

"Makarim… I'm _so…_ " His words faded to nothing when Makarim shook his head gently, a silent plea to drop the subject for the moment.

"The twins, are they with you? Are they somewhere safe?" Makarim asked desperately, and Najiya smiled, albeit sadly, and patted Makarim's arm.

"They're safe, don't worry," Najiya said, and altogether it looked as if every muscle in Makarim's body had collectively turned to soup. He breathed a deep rattling sigh of relief, backing himself up to rest momentarily against the wall for support.

"Thank the gods," he breathed, shutting his eyes. Hafa placed a hand comfortingly on Makarim's shoulder, deep blue pools staring at Najiya intently.

"Where are they? Who is with them right now?" he asked the blonde. Najiya was busy re-adjusting his cloak, which had been decently tousled when Hafa had grabbed him.

"Reem is with them, along with a good friend of mine. She and her husband run a communal house out on the outskirts of the city, and it's one of the safest places I know. Soldiers are never seen over there. Reem didn't even know it _was_ there, he thought the whole place was unoccupied. I think we'll be safe there for a little while, at least."

"Let's go, then," Makarim said, eagerly, his hope resurrected upon hearing that his siblings were safe. Inwardly, Hafa was beyond relieved. If something had happened to the twins, Hafa wasn't sure what Makarim might have done. Hafa had seen what can happen to the human heart when it has suffered too much loss, and he wasn't sure he could bear to see Makarim's gentle spirit break in such a way.

Together, they followed Najiya through the maze of back alleys. Several times they were forced to stop and wait; as the day wore on, the Holy Guard were intensifying their search efforts, or so it seemed, and soldiers were aggressively on the prowl. Hafa even noticed the gleam of a weapon under Najiya's weather-beaten cloak; it appeared he was taking extra precautions.

The communal house was made up of three ramshackle buildings that were joined into one large shared living space. There were two stories and two balconies that could be seen from the front, although they were bare and looked as if they might give way if they were stepped on. The front windows were all boarded off to deter the gaze of passers by, and the stone was badly worn and unattractive. At first glance, one's eyes could easily wander straight past the sorry sight, writing them off as nothing more than neglected buildings that were too much trouble to tear down.

Najiya led them quickly through a barely noticeable side-door, which they had to stoop under carefully in order to enter. If one had somehow found the hidden entrance and chosen to intrude, they might have immediately turned around and left; the ground-floor landing was decayed and cracked, the stairs just ahead completely unusable and crumbled to nothing, and there was no other obvious way to navigate through the rest of the building. Najiya pressed on, however, taking them around the dilapidated stairs to a large, dusty carpet spread out over the floor. He moved it aside, revealing a wooden door, its handle rusted and worn. He swung it open, ushered the men down, and then shut it behind them.

They landed in a damp, dark tunnel. Presently Najiya was lighting a lantern and smiling at the two men. "There's only one way into these buildings, and it's through here," Najiya explained as he started walking, Hafa and Makarim following closely. "All other entrances have been completely sealed."

"Where does this lead?" Makarim asked, looking around at the walls of the tunnel.

"To the first building," Najiya answered. "All of the buildings are connected to the first one, you see? The stairs back there were destroyed on purpose. You can only get to the upstairs by following this tunnel to the first building, and then using the balcony to get to building number two, and then _another_ balcony to get to the second floor of the third building."

"That's pretty elaborate," Hafa observed, but Makarim could tell he was impressed.

"I know!" Najiya said, chuckling. "It's necessary. People come here when they don't have anywhere else to go. It's a lot better than being carted off to the prisons."

The tunnel led them to a small set of stairs and another large wooden door, which Najiya knocked on. Moments later the door was opened by an elderly woman, who exhaled in what seemed like relief upon seeing Najiya.

"Thank _goodness_ , you found them!" she said, sweeping Najiya into a hug. He laughed and managed to gently pry her off as Hafa and Makarim filed into the room, closing the door behind them.

"Sorry for making you wait, khalti-" Najiya started, but the woman had already blazed past him and was clasping Makarim's hands. The taller man's face burned with embarrassment.

"Makarim Ibn-Tahiyah?" she asked him, and Makarim stiffly nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. Have we met…?"

"Perhaps once or twice, in the market," the woman smiled, "but you look exactly like your little sister. I knew your father, he was a good man," she continued, her eyes round and wet. Makarim felt a sinking in his stomach, and he pressed his lips together firmly. "He was always so kind. You poor dear… I'm _so_ sorry for your loss… What happened was-" she trailed off, sniffing back tears, and Makarim placed a hand on her shoulder, moved at the sight.

"Are- Are you alright, ma'am?" he asked in alarm. The woman swatted his hand, smiling sympathetically.

"For heavens sake, don't even think of comforting _me_!" She collected herself, and lowered her hands. "My name is Asilah. Najiya has told me your predicament, and I agreed to let you all stay for a few days, until you can get back on your feet, at least."

Najiya smiled sheepishly. "I hope that's okay," he chimed in somewhat guiltily.

Makarim offered Najiya a sincere smile. "Of _course_ it is. Thank you, both of you. I really can't thank you enough."

"Your siblings are in the next building over on the second floor, with that officer fellow." Asilah continued, gesturing past several long tables to a ladder that led to an open second story where a few tenants were watching the group with mild curiosity. "Najiya knows the way, he'll show you, won't you dear?"

"Of course," Najiya answered, pecking Asilah on the cheek with an affectionate grin. "Thanks again, khalti."

"Don't tease an old woman, Najiya," she scolded, but her wrinkled face was tinted pink.

The blonde tugged on Makarim's sleeve, starting toward the ladder. Hafa followed, but was halted when Asilah gently touched his arm. He turned to her questioningly.

"Make sure he takes care of himself," she said gently. Hafa was amazed that this woman had deduced the severity of Makarim's selflessness in mere moments, and even more amazed that she had somehow gathered how worried he was about the man. Hafa nodded and she lowered her arm, leaving him to follow his friends.

Just as Najiya said, the second floor opened up onto a covered balcony that was connected to the next building. The three of them made their way briskly through to the second floor wherein a large, spacious hall greeted them. The hall branched off to several different rooms, and Najiya led them to the fifth door on the right and knocked gently.

A startled silence followed, until Reem's voice called urgently from the other side.

"Come in!"

Najiya pushed the door open. Reem was sitting shirtless at a small table, bandages wrapped snugly around his middle and slung over one shoulder. Rani and Ru'a were standing beside him, and when the door opened, they both stared wide-eyed at the men framing the doorway. They both looked as if they had seen a ghost when Makarim pushed his way into the room, and in an instant they were flanking him, wailing and crying, tiny arms wringing the life out of him. Makarim sank to his knees, hugging them both, his composure cracking and fading into the tears, petting and cooing and rocking them as they cried.

With some difficulty, Reem stood, pulled his vest on, and slowly made for the door. The three onlookers shut the door quietly, offering the siblings time alone to mourn their loss.

Najiya wiped away some wetness that was gathering at his bottom lashes. "Reem, how are you doing? Are you feeling okay?"

Reem ran a hand gently over his side, where crimson was seeping steadily through the bandaging. "I'll be fine, it's not serious." he sighed deeply. "I'm relieved _you're_ alright, and you found Makarim." He turned to Hafa, his expression incredulous. "Furthermore… Haru, I can't believe- I mean to say, we thought you were-"

"You saved Rani and Ru'a," Hafa cut him off sharply, but not disdainfully. He eyed both of them meaningfully. "Makarim will never forget that. You were there for them when we couldn't be, while Makarim was distracted saving _me_ ," Hafa said, unable to hide the guilt in his voice. "I won't forget that, either."

"Haru…" Najiya whimpered, looking half-tempted to hug him again.

Reem embarrassingly adjusted his eye glasses. "We wouldn't have been there at all if we hadn't been out looking for you." he admitted. Najiya nodded.

"For me?" Hafa asked, bewildered. "Why were you looking for me?"

"There's something really wrong with the Prince," Najiya explained hastily. "All the delegates from the party are missing, and the Grand Vizier, too. When we heard what happened to you, well…"

"We thought perhaps you knew something about the Prince that might aid us in stopping whatever is going on," Reem finished for him.

Hafa glanced away. "I know there's something wrong with Rim. But I can't say what there is to be done about it." he said honestly.

"There are a number of other strange happenings connected to you, as well." Reem offered. "And _now_ there's the mystery of why the Prince is after Makarim and his family."

Hafa sighed. "It isn't a mystery anymore," he started, "and since you've both put your necks on the line for us, I suppose telling you the truth is unavoidable."

.

.

.

"I can't _believe_ it!" Najiya cried, clutching at a sheep-skin pillow as if they were exchanging old ghost stories. The three of them had graciously moved out of the hallway and occupied the room Najiya was using in order to talk. Hafa held nothing back. The two of them deserved to know everything after all they had gone through. He told them his true nature, his curse, and he dabbled vaguely in his history with Rim and the ifrit Sharik. He told them of the ancient crypt, and Makarim's newly discovered lineage. Reem and Najiya listened with rapt attention, and Hafa was met with no skepticism.

"Makarim is related to King Solomon! And so it's the _ring_ that this Sharik guy is after?" asked the blonde, eyes wide. Hafa looked down at his hands.

"I can only assume."

Reem was nibbling at his thumbnail in thought. "An ifrit has possessed the Prince and is seeking the Seal of Solomon. This is exactly like something out of the storybooks I grew up with," he groaned.

"Haru, we need to tell you something important, too," Najiya said earnestly. "We found this weird pipe thing under the palace, in a secret room. Princess Ghazi thought it might be related to you, because I guess it was flaring up like crazy whenever you were in the palace."

Hafa felt his blood chill. The jann had been right in assuming that his essence would be locked somewhere in an earthly vessel. "Flaring up?" Hafa repeated questioningly.

"It glowed with a blue light, like nothing I'd ever seen," Reem admitted, "do you know what it could be?"

"Is it part of your curse or something?" Najiya asked, concerned.

"Maybe," Hafa said, not wishing to delve any deeper. He _knew_ it did. He still wasn't sure if knowing was a comfort or a cause for concern.

A soft knocking at the door ceased all conversation. The door creaked open and Makarim peeked inside. He looked relieved to see everyone. "Oh, good. I thought I heard you all talking in here."

"Makarim! Where are the twins? Is… Are they okay?" Najiya asked, springing up. Makarim smiled and combed his hand through his hair. His features were tired and his eyes were red, cheeks pale but tinged with color. He looked more exhausted than Hafa had ever seen him. Hafa was fairly sure that he was staying awake on nothing more than slowly-weakening will power.

"They're fine. They fell asleep in your room, I hope you don't mind," he said to Reem. The officer shook his head avidly.

"I insist you all stay in that room, it's much more spacious. I was planning on staying in here with Najiya." he said. He cleared his throat. "For safety reasons. No one should be sleeping alone right now, the way things are." he continued unnecessarily, ears red, and Najiya giggled.

"I told them everything," Hafa said, staring at Makarim evenly for a reaction. Makarim only nodded.

"That's fine," he said. "You two deserve to know what we know. It's the least we can do in return for everything you've done." he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I'm so sorry you've gotten involved in all of this. This is all my fault, and so many people have gotten dragged in…"

"No way!" Najiya declared, clenching his fists in earnest. "None of this is your fault! Haru told us all about Sharik, this is _his_ fault, if anyones! You didn't know-"

"I'm the one wearing the ring though, right?" Makarim said with a dry laugh. "I'm not actively blaming myself, _really_ , I just somehow feel responsible. I can't help it."

Reem stood up very suddenly, ignoring the searing pain in his side. He turned to Makarim with an indiscernible expression, then bowed his head to him in utmost shame. Makarim seemed shocked by the gesture.

"If anyone is responsible, it's me," Reem announced. "I was unable to save your father. I should have been more _prepared_ , my training _prepared_ me for situations like that, and I had mastered the theory. But still, I wasn't able to save him. He died because of my weakness."

Makarim held up his hands. "Reem, no, that's not-"

" _Please understand_ ," Reem cut him off, his voice nearly faltering with an influx of emotion, "I _must_ accept responsibility. I can no longer call myself an officer of the palace, and your family was put in danger by my being there. I acted rashly, and as such, I will accept responsibility for the tragedy that your family has experienced."

A penetrating silence followed Reem's words. He waited, head bowed and body rigid until Makarim stepped toward him and grasped his trembling shoulders tightly. Reem glanced up in surprise and met sincere emerald pools.

"If you hadn't been there, my _entire family_ would have been either killed or arrested." he said firmly. "I owe you two everything. You saved my brother and sister. I could spend the rest of my life thanking you and it still wouldn't be enough. My father knew what he was doing, right? Rani and Ru'a told me what happened. He did everything he could to help you save them, didn't he?"

Reem's eyes were clouded with water, which he found odd, because he didn't cry, he _never_ cried. The scene of Tahiyah's death was frozen in his mind like an illustration from a book that had been read too many times. Slowly, he nodded. Makarim smiled warmly.

"The only thing I'll allow you to accept is my thanks," Makarim continued. Next to Hafa Najiya was hurriedly wiping his own eyes, his breathing hitching with suppressed sobs.

Hafa watched the scene with an odd clarity. He was feeling the emotions in the air like the static before a storm, and he could understand what each man was feeling, to an extent. It was his new-found empathy at work, he was sure, but he didn't feel compelled to shed tears with the others. He wondered vaguely if perhaps he wasn't yet as human as he had thought.

"I know it's still early, but maybe we should all try and get some sleep," Najiya suggested, after all of them had calmed down. "We're safe here for now, and we've all been through a lot today, right?"

"I think that might be a good idea," Makarim said, which Hafa was glad for. The man looked close to collapsing.

"Okay," Najiya said, clapping his hands together. "Reem and me will sleep in here, and Haru…"

"I'm sleeping with Makarim and the twins." Hafa said decisively. Makarim stared at him, lips pulling into a relieved smile.

"I would like that," Makarim said softly.

.

.

.

Rim was suffocating.

No, it was more than that. He was trapped in what felt like a blanket of black matter, airy and endless, oppressive and stretched out. The feeling was familiar to him, but he'd never felt like more of a stranger to it.

He tried to move, but it was almost as if he no longer had anything _to_ move. If he focused on it, his body was numb, detached, floating. It was comforting, in a way. If he hadn't woken up so inexplicably anxious, he might have let himself float forever. He was sure there was something he needed to do, but he wasn't sure what that something was.

There was a whispering sound that was growing in intensity, coming from all around him. He strained to hear it but instead of becoming more clear it became so loud that it effectively blocked out all other thoughts. Rim cried out for someone lost to him, the name fading into the inky blackness.

The whispering stopped. Rim was left in an icy solace until he faintly heard another voice, a female voice, a voice he knew well. This sound was not coming from all sides, it was focused, concise, and Rim used every ounce of concentration he had left to hear it.

"...true? I was tearing the palace apart looking for him when finally one of the servants told me. Rim, how _could_ you?"

Ghazi was speaking to him, urgently, _angrily_ , in a tone he rarely ever heard from his sister. He wanted to answer her, to ask her what was going on, but his mouth refused to open.

"And why were you searching for the Grand Vizier so _tenaciously_ , sister?" answered someone in his voice. Rim felt sick. Someone was speaking for him, using his mouth to say things he didn't want to say. He felt a surge of fear, which gave way to panic. What was happening? Rim focused as hard as he could, and slowly, a foggy image began to form. The more he imagined his eyes closing, the more he could see, so he tried his best to keep his phantom eyes shut tight.

Ghazi was standing in front of him, hands on her hips, face red and brows drawn in anger. It looked as if they were in his quarters, but it was hard to make out, as the room was dim. Rim had no control over where he looked, and soon the image had swept away from Ghazi, lingering for some time on the cushioned chair and side table, where incense was burning strongly.

"Don't change the subject!" Ghazi shot furiously. "Why did you have Siraj al Din arrested? What were his crimes?"

"His crimes are numerous, but insubordination is among them." Rim's voice answered casually. "But it's really none of your concern whom I imprison, sister dear. You'd do well to trust my judgment."

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

The image was turning; Ghazi was pulling Rim by his arm, turning him around to face her. There were tears in her eyes, and Rim wanted to wipe them away, but instead he jerked his arm back roughly.

"I warn you, sister-"

"No, I'm warning _you_!" Ghazi exclaimed, face twisting in fury, "Release Siraj al Din. He's done _nothing wrong_! I won't stand here and watch my own brother declare _war_ on the kingdoms and throw innocent men in prison! This is too much!"

Ghazi pressed her palm to her face and cried. "You're not the big brother I knew," she said gently, shaking her head. "I just want Rim back. I want things to go back to the way they used to be… Before all of _this…_ "

Rim's hand reached out and gently touched Ghazi's cheek, caressing her lovingly. She gasped at the contact, and stared up at him with round magenta eyes glistening with tears. "Rim…?"

For the briefest of moments, Rim thought he had regained control. What came next, he was not expecting.

The hand that touched his sister's face was now curled around her throat, squeezing down, and Ghazi let out a surprised yelp as she stumbled backward, her hands clawing at her attacker's arm. Rim yelled, panic rising, trying desperately to gain control of his body. The image was so obscured it was hard to see anything, and several times it faded to black, Rim losing his grip on the only control he felt he had. The sounds remained, the sounds of Ghazi gasping as her air was cut off.

Vision returned to Rim just as he was giving up hope. He was staring down at his sister's crumpled form, heaving and gasping for air, her hands protectively circled around her bruised throat.

" _Can you hear me, Rim?"_

The voice was sneering, flippant, and Rim knew the voice. He yelled obscenities in reply, but they too faded into nothing.

" _Have you regained some of your consciousness? You should have kept sleeping, it's only going to get worse from here on."_

He was stooping over and grabbing Ghazi around the waist, hoisting her up and slinging her over his shoulder.

" _You should know, I'm not going to kill your sister_ yet _,"_ the voice spoke as Rim's body threw open the door to the room and emptied into the hall, carrying Ghazi as easily as if she were a sack of flour. _"I've got a much grander plan for her. She won't die in vain, I promise you that. Her death will help us achieve our dream, Rim."_

Rim's mind was whirling. What had he been doing before all of this? He remembered parts of the party, he remembered having a bitter argument with Aini, and he vaguely recalled a raven-haired young man being brought to his quarters. Haru, he had called himself. Something _horrible_ had happened. The rest of it seemed to spiral into darkness.

The small semblance of control that Rim had was rapidly fading. He felt dangerously close to losing consciousness, letting the blackness envelope him. He didn't want to go. There were so many things he wanted to do. He needed to protect Ghazi, he had to fix everything that went wrong.

He wanted to see Hafa again.

Rim felt something snap. The threads of his existence that were being undone seemed to weave themselves back together. He didn't have control, but he could _remember_. His mind felt clearer than it had in years. The fog he'd been living in blew away and laid bare the lies and manipulation he had suffered, although he knew that he was equally guilty of letting it overtake his sense of self. His guilt had driven him into hiding, into giving up. But he couldn't run anymore. He wasn't a child.

" _Ah, what's this? You're fighting me, are you?_ " Sharik's voice was loud and imposing, wearing his tattered soul thin. " _You won't be getting this body back, Rim, I rather like it. I've worked hard for it. Stick around if you like, but you'll regret it if you do."_

The doors to the throne room creaked open, and Sharik walked inside, tossing Ghazi carelessly to the floor. She landed hard with a groan of pain, and Rim felt himself heave with fury.

" _You don't want to see what I'm going to have to do to your darling baby sister._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Najiya calls Asilah **khalti** , which is basically a respectful Arabic term for an older woman, literally meaning 'aunt'. 
> 
> This chapter took a little longer than usual because I had to split it into two chapters, because it was getting so long. Hopefully that means the next chapter will be done real quickly! 
> 
> Lots of emotion in this chapter, it was hard to write at times. Poor Makarim hasn't had a moment to grieve, so Hafa will have to help him with that. :3 Again, I can't thank you all enough for your wonderful comments and support. They really keep me motivated to finish this thing!
> 
> The next chapter is going to get really NSFW, just a forewarning. uwu


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a chance to take a breath, Hafa learns more about human anatomy, and then their break is over.

The company had slept well into the night, and Hafa woke the next morning in a tangle of limbs sandwiched between Makarim, Rani and Ru'a. Careful not to wake them, Hafa extracted himself from the siblings and met with Najiya in the hall, who had woken earlier than anyone else. While the rest of their friends slept, Hafa and Najiya braved the city in disguise in order to buy supplies, clothes and food for the house. They even managed to locate Hafa's camel, who had been wandering outside the city waiting for his master's return. As there would be no feasible place to keep a camel that wouldn't draw attention, Hafa was forced to unload the bags that Makarim had packed and let the creature wander freely, hoping that when everything was over, the animal might return to him.

Three undisturbed days passed.

Despite the situation, they were relatively stress-free days; collectively the men were striving to keep the twins happy and healthy, most notably Makarim, who was smiling and laughing to cover up the fact that he didn't want to. It was paying off. Rani and Ru'a were keeping busy helping with duties around the communal buildings at the request of Asilah, who doted on the twins shamelessly and often showered them with love. The twins were very fond of her in return, and even helped cook dinner for everyone on the second night. Although Hafa wasn't very fond of human cooking, (he had lived on a steady diet of mackerel as a djinn, and while wandering the desert he had always died of dehydration before having to worry about finding food,) he found the meal to be delicious, and the twins were immensely proud of themselves.

When the twins weren't being distracted with chores, the men were keeping them occupied with games and stories. Hafa recognized immediately that Makarim was stretching himself too thin; he was so worried about the mental well-being of his siblings that he hadn't yet taken a single minute for himself. Every night Hafa waited for the twins to fall asleep so that he might address this, but Makarim would always succumb to exhaustion just after his siblings closed their eyes, and Hafa didn't have the heart to wake him.

It was on the third night that Hafa decided he would talk to Makarim. After dinner, Najiya, Reem, Makarim and the twins had disappeared upstairs while Hafa sought advice from Asilah about how to approach the subject. Asilah assured him that any way he chose to broach the topic would be fine, and that he just needed to be himself. Hafa wasn't sure the advice was useful. He had no idea who or what he was anymore, so being himself seemed like a daunting task.

Hafa returned upstairs to find their room empty. He checked Najiya and Reem's room to find the aforementioned asleep with the twins, all four of them sleeping around a wooden game board littered with pieces that Hafa didn't recognize. Makarim was not among them, and so Hafa quietly closed the door and began his search. He had a pretty good idea where he was heading.

The balcony on the third building was the most secluded. It directly faced the sloping dunes that used to be cultivated by ocean winds some time ago, but now the sand was shaped by time and dry sandstorms. The waning moon shone high in the sky, casting luminous light on Makarim's form as he leaned on the railing, watching the endless desert as a light breeze mussed his hair. He was dressed in a plain, off-white kurta and pants, matching Hafa's own in light-blue. Next to him was a basket of everyone's clothes- freshly cleaned, from the looks of it- and he had strategically hung some clothing on the railing to dry. Hafa stepped onto the balcony without a sound.

Makarim turned when he felt eyes on him. His mouth pulled into something like a smile, but it was weak and vaguely forced.

"Oh, Haru," he said, taking his weight off of the iron rail, "I was thinking of going to see where you'd gone. You were downstairs for so long, I wasn't sure if you needed help with anything or not."

"I was helping Asilah with some things." Hafa said. _Half-truths_. "Reem and Najiya fell asleep playing with the twins."

Makarim chuckled. "I know. I was gathering up the last of the laundry when I found them all in there. It's probably for the best, Ru'a is a horrible loser, and that's really not her best game."

Hafa walked to the railing, his hand sliding over the cool metal. "You could have asked for some help with the laundry," he said gently. "I would have been happy to help."

Makarim leveled him a suspicious look. "From what I recall, you _hate_ doing chores, and laundry was your least favorite."

"Things are different now," Hafa answered with a frown that came off as more of a pout. "you can't go doing everything by yourself."

Makarim's smile faded, and he nodded, looking back out at the dunes. "I know," he said somberly. "I think I'm just keeping myself busy to distract myself."

"From everything else?"

"Yeah."

A stronger breeze billowed, rustling the laundry that was hanging on the rail and obscuring Hafa's vision as raven hair blew over his eyes. He raked his hair back, so accustomed to his keffiyeh keeping his face safe from wind and weather that it almost felt foreign to do so.

"Makarim," Hafa started, attempting to be himself against his better judgment, "are you… Okay? You've been so worried about the twins, that you..."

"I _have_ to be worried about the twins, Haru," Makarim said seriously. "They're depending on me. I'm all they've got, now."

"You still have to grieve." Hafa pointed out. "You're human. It's integral to the healing process, isn't it?"

Makarim looked away. "I don't…" He sighed deeply, leaning his forearms against the rail. "I don't know _how_."

Hafa watched him closely. He understood the sentiment. There were still so many things that were a complete mystery to him, so many emotions that he was constantly discovering. Grieving was something he'd observed in humans, but he'd never known what it truly felt like. Even now, the death of Makarim's father held no real emotion for him. It wasn't to say that he was unfeeling about the matter, but it was the effect that his death was having on his children that wrung Hafa's heart. Watching them suffer his loss was painful in many new ways.

"It still doesn't feel real," Makarim admitted, hanging his head. "I saw his body with my own eyes, but it feels like it was a dream. Like I was looking at him through someone _elses_ eyes. No one spoke a prayer for him, we only just _barely_ managed to give him a proper shroud-"

"There wasn't any time for that." Hafa said gently.

"There was no finality. No burial, no real time to mourn..." Makarim sighed heavily, and his shoulders swelled and sagged. "No goodbye." he finished, barely audibly.

Hafa was uncertain of what to say. Times like this were proof that he lacked the sensitivity to understand and reassure these sorts of emotions with any show of efficiency. What he felt and what came out of his mouth tended to be two different animals, and presently a memory had floated to the surface and was demanding attention.

"When you were much younger, a woman used to accompany you to the water with the other children," Hafa said. Makarim's head swiveled in his direction, listening avidly. "She was lovely. She never pressured you to get into the water, and she comforted you when the other children jeered."

"I can't believe you can remember something like that." Makarim said in amazement. "Your memory is outstanding."

Hafa shook his head. "Actually, I'm forgetting more and more every day," he admitted, "but I can remember you, for some reason. That woman was your mother, wasn't she?"

Makarim smiled warmly at the memories. "Yes. She passed away right after the twins were born."

"You had to be strong for your infant siblings, even back then," Hafa speculated. "No wonder you don't know how to grieve."

"So long as Rani and Ru'a are safe and happy, my needs aren't important," Makarim offered feebly.

Hafa flashed him a glare. "But they _are_ ," he said. He seized the sleeve of Makarim's kurta tightly in his hand. "they are to _me_. And Rani and Ru'a, too. They want you to be just as healthy and happy."

"Haru…" Makarim's face was dusted pink, eyes glinting with emotion.

"Tell me what you need," Hafa demanded resolutely. "Just tell me."

Makarim stared at Hafa in surprise for a long moment, as if he had never been asked something like that before, which perhaps he hadn't. He turned back to face the desert, his expression dissolving into something uncharacteristically listless.

"My grandfather used to tell me about an unseen world where djinn live, parallel to the mortal plane. He told me it was one of the Seven Heavens."

He spoke haltingly, his words almost strained, but Hafa listened attentively, not entirely certain where he was heading.

"What of it?" Hafa implored him to continue.

"Is it.. Is it real?" the man asked, his voice small. "Is something like that real, or is it just a story?"

The marid blinked steadily at Makarim, processing his question. These things were always difficult, and he never quite knew the best way to answer.

"It's real, I suppose," Hafa mused, releasing the sleeve and mirroring Makarim by staring out at the dunes. "I don't know about there being seven of them, though. It isn't exactly how the texts describe."

"What is it like? Is it nice?"

Hafa looked down, blue eyes focused on the gently fluttering laundry. "It's hard to explain…"

"Try." There was a desperation in Makarim's voice that took Hafa slightly off-guard. "Please."

It was difficult to recall something so surreal in a mortal body, with such a tragically limited mortal vocabulary. He felt that so much of his djinn existence had been lost he might not even be remembering it correctly, but he understood why Makarim wanted to know, and so he tried his best to piece together the confusing mess of memories. Figuring out how to convey them into words was just as trying.

"It comes with a certain weightlessness," Hafa started, Makarim staring above them at the sky, "it overlaps this world, but it isn't a piece of it. You become part of everything. All matter comes together, and you can travel anywhere you want in the blink of an eye. There is no confinement, no time to restrain you. Light and darkness exist in pockets, drawn together in tight clusters that you can touch and scatter. Everything is slowed down and sped up. All parts of your life are existing at once, and you can spread yourself so far that you might touch the other end of the sky."

A soft chuckle emanated from his left. "That's terribly poetic," Makarim mused.

Hafa frowned peevishly. "It's hard to describe in words."

"I think you did it beautifully." Makarim put in. He distractedly wrung his hands together. "Do you think… My father is somewhere like that, now? With my mother?"

This was a moment where Hafa was unsure whether or not to offer that false reassurance he knew humans were so fond of. He opted for being himself. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'd like to think so," he added, with equal honesty.

A time passed in silence. It was comfortable, as silence with Makarim often was. Although he had been trying his best to ignore it, Hafa was being steadily ground down by something he wanted to say, something he felt he _needed_ to say, and he could feel it welling up impatiently at the back of his throat.

"I'm worried." Makarim's voice pulled Hafa from his thoughts. "The longer we stay here, the more likely it is we'll be found. We're putting these good people in danger…"

"Asilah is aware of our situation," Hafa answered. Makarim shot him a despondent look. "Well, _most_ of our situation. She knows that you're wanted for arrest, anyway. She's willing to risk it."

"I can't allow her to." The man sighed pitiably. "I have to figure out what to do, but being here is so good for Rani and Ru'a right now. They feel _safe_ here. We have some form of security, a place to lay our heads down. But we can't live here _forever_. Not with Sharik looking for this…" Makarim fondled the ring around his finger, frowning at it. Without thinking, Hafa grabbed his sleeve again, this time to turn him around to face him.

"Makarim." he said firmly, drawing a surprised look from the taller man, "We'll figure out what to do. I won't let him touch you, or Rani or Ru'a. Understand?" He touched Makarim's face, feather-light. A gasp-sob escaped Makarim's throat, broken from repression, then another, and then Hafa was grabbing fistfuls of Makarim's kurta and pulling him down to meet his lips. Makarim did nothing to resist; his own hands were getting tangled in Hafa's hair, leaning into the kiss desperately, breathing hard through his nose as he worked to draw the air from Hafa's lungs.

They parted, Makarim clenching his hands in Hafa's shirt, resting his forehead on his shoulder.

"I don't know what I need," Makarim mumbled into his shoulder, quiet and shaky, "but I know what I _want_. And I want you right now. So… Can we…?"

Hafa felt his mouth go dry. He could feel strands of silky brown hair brushing against his chin, and the heat radiating from Makarim's cheeks and ears.

"Are you sure?" Hafa asked him gently.

Makarim nodded, his fingers finding more leverage in the cloth of Hafa's kurta. "Please." he said softly. "Let's go somewhere."

.

.

.

The candle on the table was flickering violently with the threat of extinguishing, but neither man cared to replace it. It didn't matter, anyway. Light wasn't necessary, and the door to the room was secured. There was no need to bother themselves with anything else.

Hafa's fingers were curled around the back of Makarim's neck, keeping him close, kissing him hard and without reservation. The two of them were stumbling across the room, Hafa breaking the kiss only to pull his own shirt over his head and toss it aside, backing Makarim up toward the bed. Makarim's hands were carding aggressively through Hafa's hair, gripping him tightly, grunting in mild annoyance as he smacked the wooden bedframe with his heel. He allowed his knees to bend, and Hafa wasted no time pushing him gently onto the bed. Makarim fell easily, pulling Hafa along with him, their mouths never breaking contact.

Hands slid up Makarim's shirt, firmly pressing into warm skin and solid muscle. Hafa's lips left the wet warmth of Makarim's mouth to gently press kisses along his jaw, trailing his way to the man's neck, down to the dip below his throat. A sigh escaped Makarim's bruised lips, eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm… I'm kind of nervous," Makarim admitted softly, gasping as Hafa's teeth gently grazed his skin.

"Do you want to stop?" Hafa mumbled against his neck. Makarim shook his head avidly, fingers clutching at Hafa's back.

"I've just… Never done this sort of thing. And with a _man- Oof-_ Haru-!"

Hafa was tugging Makarim's shirt up eagerly, and Makarim squirmed under him and raised his arms to allow the shirt's removal. Tossing the shirt behind them, Hafa glanced down at Makarim's figure. He had only seen him like this once before, in the palace oasis, but he hadn't been able to appreciate it then. His body was sculpted from years of hard work and heavy lifting, every defining line in his chest and stomach rolling and tensing with every breath he took. Although Hafa thought he still looked much better with water glistening over the toned muscle, he knew the image of Makarim beneath him as dying light quivered over his form was one befitting the Gods.

"You're staring," Makarim chided in embarrassment. Hafa nodded, running his hands down the length of Makarim's chest and torso, causing him to squirm again.

"I know."

Repositioning himself, Hafa leaned over to kiss Makarim's chest, his tongue dragging slowly over his left pectoral, flicking experimentally at his nipple. Makarim physically jerked, a surprised sound leaving his lips just before he covered his own mouth with his hand to stifle it. Hafa's head snapped up and he grabbed the hand, pulling it down and away from Makarim's face.

"H-Haru…?"

"I want to hear you," Hafa said seriously, his expression stoic but his eyes blazing. "Don't cover your mouth."

"I don't want the twins hearing-"

"They're at the other end of the hall, asleep. They won't hear anything," Hafa reasoned, pinning Makarim's wrist to the bed. Makarim's face flushed and he rolled his head to the side, staring at the wall.

"It's… Embarrassing," he said quietly.

"It isn't," Hafa rebutted stubbornly. "It's you."

There was no time to ask what exactly that meant; Hafa's head had dropped again to Makarim's chest, where his tongue was swirling over his nipple, applying pressure when he felt the nub stiffen. His free hand found Makarim's other nipple and playfully pinched it, rubbing the rough skin of his thumb over the darkened flesh until it was equally stimulated. Makarim gasped, whimpering through gritted teeth as Hafa gently licked and nibbled, shimmering blue eyes flicking up to regard Makarim's face whenever he got the chance. The man was surprisingly sensitive. Hafa marveled at the idea of discovering other sensitive parts he could experiment with.

Makarim's hands found leverage on Hafa's shoulders, panting and gasping while muscles twitched at the sensations. Finally Hafa pulled away, his lips once again seeking Makarim's in another heady kiss. Makarim's arms wrapped around Hafa's neck, pulling him in, kissing him hard; Hafa's head felt light and feathery, and a stiffness in his pants was making it difficult to continue straddling Makarim's hips with any semblance of comfort.

Fingers gently slid down Makarim's stomach and tread under the hem of his pants, eliciting a surprised gasp from the other man. Hafa glanced up at him for permission; Makarim nodded his head, drawing his lower lip into his mouth, face burning. Swinging a leg over Makarim's waist, Hafa knelt on the bed beside him and peeled Makarim out of his pants, pacing himself with agonizing restraint. Makarim assisted by propping himself up on his elbows, pulling one of his legs free, and kicking the pants aside.

For many years, Hafa had been stuffed inside of a mortal body, forced to feel things as a mortal would, like the sun, wind and sand against his skin and the searing torture of mortal pain. He had never considered himself a mortal, not until meeting Makarim and experiencing a slew of new sensations and emotions that he had priorly assumed were wholly human. His human anatomy up until this point had been of little importance to him. He had never gotten to fully examine himself, as he'd never seen the need nor had the desire, but now that Makarim was exposed to him, he thought it a crime that he had never had the urge.

Without warning, he extended a hand and touched Makarim's length with an aroused curiosity; Makarim let out a shuddering groan, peering at Hafa through half-lidded eyes.

"You're still staring," he said meekly, but Hafa was too distracted to answer. The flesh of Makarim's cock was warm and flushed and slightly soft; he could feel it stiffening through his touches. Surely this was a very sensitive organ, as he'd always been so careful with his own, although he'd never speculated on its uses.

"Haru… Do you…?"

Hafa glanced at Makarim questioningly just as his fingers curled around the hot flesh, and Makarim gasped, halting Hafa in his actions.

"Do you know… Uhm… What to do? With… _That_ ," Makarim asked, his voice thick with arousal. Hafa re-focused his attention, slowly and experimentally stroking Makarim's cock once, twice, and on the third stroke Makarim moaned, moving to cover his mouth again before remembering what Hafa had said before.

"As long as I go slow, I should figure it out," Hafa offered. He pulled his hand away, earning a slightly confused look from Makarim in reply.

"Sit up." Hafa said, and Makarim complied without bothering to ask why. Hafa easily slipped behind him, letting the man settle between his thighs. He could feel his own arousal pressing hard into the base of Makarim's back, and he reckoned that Makarim could feel it as well judging by the way his breathing hitched. Hands slid over Makarim's sides and came to rest on his penis, gently palming the head before once again circling his fingers around the length and stroking, absently kissing the groove of the man's spine as he worked. Makarim gripped Hafa's knees tightly, whimpering in pleasure, sweet sounds that caused warmth to aggressively flood Hafa's lower stomach.

Rather quickly Hafa discovered a rhythm, paying close attention to the sounds that Makarim was making in response to his efforts. No soft flesh remained, which Hafa could only assume was a good thing, but it did make it more difficult to smooth his hand up the length without creating unnecessary friction. Moisture would be needed if he intended to take this further, and that was most _definitely_ his intention.

He gave Makarim's back a farewell kiss and moved, leaving the bed and grabbing one of Makarim's knees to encourage him to turn and move to the edge of the bed. Unsteadily, Makarim followed his lead, his breathing irregular and his face tinged pink.

"Haru, what…?"

Hafa knelt between Makarim's thighs, hands gripping his ankles, and Makarim's eyes shot open and a hand flew forward to hold tight to Hafa's shoulder.

"You d-don't have to, I haven't done a _single_ thing for you yet, don't you want-"

"I want to do this," Hafa said seriously, staring at Makarim with such a calm, cool gaze that he might have assumed that Hafa was _not_ on his knees in a very compromising position when he knew very well that wasn't the case.

"But… What about you?" Makarim asked sheepishly. "You need to feel good too…"

"I feel good when you feel good," Hafa answered easily. "We have plenty of time. I'm planning on keeping you in here for a while."

Makarim had the overwhelming urge to cover his face again, if only to hide the blush he felt blooming from cheek to cheek but he was sure that Hafa would only tell him not to. Instead he tossed his head back with a sharp cry when Hafa's wet, warm mouth closed around his cock, all thoughts of embarrassment and worry flying from his mind.

It felt much like Hafa expected it to feel, only much hotter and far more intruding in his mouth. Hafa willed his throat to relax and swallowed as much of the thickly swollen flesh as he could, hands sliding up to push Makarim's trembling thighs farther apart. He focused on doing things he assumed would be pleasurable- avoiding teeth, gliding his tongue up the length with every bob of his head and varying the suction- guided by Makarim's throaty groans and faltering breaths. Quickly he developed a technique, and Makarim was sputtering broken words and noises that sounded like he was reaching a peak. Hafa dragged his mouth upward and down with a heated wet suction that was coming close to choking him.

"H-Haru… Aaahh… S-sto- I'm going to-"

Hafa felt Makarim's cock twitch in his mouth and pulled away in alarm, unsure of what was happening. With a cry and a tilt of his back Makarim orgasmed, warm ropes of thick liquid hitting Hafa squarely on his neck and chest. Hafa was too intrigued to care about the mess; he surveyed Makarim's face through the darkness in awe: his brows were drawn together, eyes half-open and bleary, lips parted in a silent scream as he shook and whimpered. Curiously, Hafa wrapped his fingers around Makarim's convulsing organ and gave it a pump; Makarim's eyes shot open and he yelped, body rocking forward, grabbing Hafa's shoulders for stability. Hafa stared at him wide-eyed.

"What happened? Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"S-sensitive," Makarim gasped, leaning to rest his forehead against Hafa's, eyes falling closed. His body still shook with tremors. "It's… _Really_ sensitive, after that…"

Hafa removed his hand from Makarim's softening penis, fingers running soothingly through Makarim's hair. With his other hand, he experimentally swiped a finger over the cooling semen that was running down his neck and chest.

"I'm sorry," Makarim offered meekly. "It just sort of…"

"It's okay." Hafa licked his finger clean, the flavor leaving a bitter saltiness on his tongue; it wasn't altogether disagreeable.

" _Haru…_!" Makarim gasped, mortified. Hafa ignored his discomfort and repeated the action.

"I didn't realize humans could do this. Is this sperm? It's how you reproduce, right?"

Makarim sat up and covered his face with his hands, groaning. "You can't ask questions like that _now…_!"

The candle on the table finally depleted, throwing the room into darkness. The window adjacent to the bed was open, letting in the smallest of breezes, spilling moonlight onto the bed and floor. Hafa decided that he might like Makarim's body covered in luminescence almost as much as water, and was thankful that the candle had snuffed out to show him this sight. He pulled Makarim's hands away from his face and kissed him, slow and deep, Makarim clawing blindly at Hafa's pants. Together they haphazardly discarded his pants on the floor.

Makarim yanked Hafa ontop of him, sucking his tongue into his mouth and licking Hafa's lower lip. Hafa broke away with an aroused gasp, his fingertips finding Makarim's mouth and gently treading over his flushed lips. Unexpectedly, Makarim licked one of the fingers and dragged it into his mouth, sucking on the digit with a low rumbling moan. Hafa watched, frozen, pupils blown wide from over-stimulation.

The finger left Makarim's mouth with a wet sound. Makarim's eyes met Hafa's for what felt like the first time since they'd entered the bedroom, and they held each other's gaze in wordless conversation.

"You can… Put it in. If you want." Makarim spoke softly. Despite his eagerness to follow through with this request immediately, Hafa hesitated.

"You mean you don't want to…?"

"I… I don't mind either way, but…" Their eye-contact was broken when Makarim had to look away, his face burning. Hafa's throat felt dry again.

"Okay. How should I…?" Hafa quickly mulled over what he knew about male human anatomy. "I don't want to hurt you."

Makarim glanced to the pile of items and bags across the room that Hafa had reclaimed from his camel a few days prior. "There's sandalwood oil in my bag. It's a healing oil, so… It must be safe to use, even for something like this."

Before he'd even finished his sentence Hafa was across the room, rummaging through the leather bag he'd seen Makarim packing medical supplies during their afternoon in the sand tent. He located a vial of thick, clear liquid, raising it up questioningly. Makarim nodded, propped up on his elbows in order to see.

Hafa returned to the bed, vial of oil between his teeth and his hands smoothing over Makarim's hips, helping him to scoot farther to the center of the bed. Hafa settled between his thighs, pulling the cork from the vial and emptying several drops of oil into his hand.

"Tell me if I hurt you, and I'll stop." Hafa said, and Makarim nodded again, bending his knees and watching Hafa coat oil on his fingers. Makarim held his breath when the first digit gently pressed itself against his entrance, prodding the soft skin and slicking the outside with the warm oil. Steadily, Hafa slid his finger inside, penetrating the first tight ring of pulsing muscle.

Makarim exhaled deeply as a hiss through his teeth. "I'm okay," Makarim was quick to reassure, "It's just… _New_."

Hafa leaned over Makarim and kissed him, gentle and sweet, finger working into him until he was able to push in another, then a third, and Makarim was panting and gripping the blankets tight in his fists, squirming as Hafa prepared him. Hafa was about to pull out when his first finger slid over a small mound of soft skin, causing Makarim's back to arch and a strangled cry to tumble from his lips. Hafa carefully ran over the spot again, a small smile pulling at his lips as Makarim gasped and thrashed his head to the side.

"There?"

"Y- _yes_ … I- It's _good_..." Makarim sputtered, his cock twitching back to life, his hips jerking with every internal prod.

Extracting his fingers, Hafa poured more oil into his hand and coated his own length generously. He angled himself over Makarim, pressing the head of his cock against Makarim's slick entrance. Makarim wrapped his arms around Hafa's neck and let out a shaky breath as Hafa eased himself in, both men groaning in time from the sensation, the impossibly tight warmth squeezing around Hafa and wiping his mind completely blank. He could feel his thoughts and clarity melting away with the rhythm of Makarim's breaths and the sensation of pleasure tinged with pain as he worked himself deeper, taking care to be gentle but dangerously close to losing himself in the feeling.

Hands slid from Makarim's inner thighs to the bend of his knees, tilting his hips up. With a new angle to work with, Hafa pulled out and sunk back in. Makarim's voice rose, punctuated with gasps and moans that counterpointed Hafa's low, breathless grunts as the two of them developed a satisfying tempo. Sweat beaded at Hafa's brow and chest and felt like ice on his smouldering skin. Ever-observing, Hafa was fixated on Makarim's form, albeit hazily: he was focused on the way his lips parted as he uttered incoherent sounds, the wrinkle between his brows that was a mixture of ecstasy and pain, the pulsing of his stomach muscles as he began rocking his hips to meet Hafa's thrusts.

"H-har...u… H-haru- Aaah..." Makarim whimpered in broken moans, and Hafa lowered his head, resting on Makarim's shoulder as the arms around his neck tightened their hold. Makarim's skin smelled sweet and sweaty, and Hafa kissed Makarim's neck, moist with sweat at the hairline.

"Hafa'ma," Hafa breathed into Makarim's ear, and for a second, Makarim's body froze up and Hafa could almost hear the silent sound of bewilderment. With the next thrust Makarim was brought back, hips eagerly pushing into the motion, a yearning cry catching in his throat. Makarim loosened his arms enough for Hafa to pull himself up, their eyes meeting again, Makarim's wide and shining.

"My name is Hafa'ma. I want you to know." Hafa's voice was not as clear or steady as he would have liked, but it didn't matter. If there was one person in the world who knew his true name, he wanted it to be Makarim. He wasn't merely swept up in the moment, he hadn't lost himself in passion; He was giving himself to Makarim the only way he knew how. Whether he was to be forever trapped as a mortal or somehow regain his lost form, he wanted Makarim alone to know his name- by extension, his soul.

Perhaps it was poor judgment concocted in a human mind, but Hafa was beyond the point of caring. He trusted Makarim. He wanted him. Follies of the past were no longer any concern of his, there was only _this_ , the feeling of bliss and friction and the soft sounds of sharp breaths accompanied by the gentle thump of the bedstead against the wall.

Makarim pulled him in again, his legs squeezing Hafa's hips, hooking his ankles behind him firmly. Mouths met in a feverish variant of kissing, wet and amorous as the pressure began to mount, coiling tightly in Hafa's stomach. They broke apart, focused on the movement, consumed by the pleasure they were giving each other. Makarim was gasping his name, his _real_ name, every syllable sending tremors of excitement and warmth through his body and causing the pressure to intensify ten-fold.

Something was about to happen, he was so very close to some kind of release that was obscuring his vision and driving him to frenzy; Makarim's nails were digging into his shoulder blades, his cries closer together and changing in pitch. Hafa could feel that mound again, the soft pleasure center inside of Makarim that had caused him such delight before, and he strove to hit it over and over again until Makarim was tossing his head and wailing mindlessly, tears gathered at his bottom lashes, coming for the second time over his own heaving stomach and chest.

Lights exploded behind Hafa's eyes and his mouth opened in both ecstasy and surprise but no sound emerged; the pressure had hit its limit and he had exploded, he was dying, _dying_ but it felt so good he wasn't even sure he was still in his body anymore. His hands clawed at the blankets for support, his breath shallow and coming out in desperate whines. Makarim still had his arms firmly around his neck, his body still convulsing, whispering encouraging things into his ear that he could only half-hear, "... _you're okay, you're okay, I've got you, I'm here_ ".

Hafa felt his muscles dissolve into nothing. He slid out of Makarim before collapsing onto the other man, eyes falling closed as Makarim wrapped him up in his arms, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

" _Hafa'ma_ ," Makarim hummed after a time had passed in silence, both of them working to gain back control of their limbs and normalize their breathing. Hafa didn't have the energy to respond, so he merely nodded his head against Makarim's chest. Makarim chuckled lazily. "It's beautiful," he mused. "I can see how your name encompasses your soul. I can't think of a more fitting description for you." He exhaled a calm breath. "I'll call you that when we're alone together like this. It's your secret name, so I want to preserve it."

"Idiot," Hafa mumbled, cheeks tinted at the prospect, "I just wanted you to be the one who knew. Don't worry so much about it being a secret."

"Shouldn't I?" Makarim asked, pressing a kiss to Hafa's forehead.

"You will anyway," Hafa replied, his tone vaguely teasing.

Slow kissing followed this, mild in comparison to their earlier pace but welcome in an entirely different way. When they broke apart, Makarim offered Hafa a weak smile.

"We're going to have to clean up." He looked around for added emphasis, noting the piles of clothes haphazardly strewn over the floor and the state of the bed. Not to mention the sticky mess that had gotten all over their skin and the blankets. "The twins will probably wake up at some point and want to come in here, and when they do I don't want the room…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"...Smelling like sex and oil?" Hafa finished. Makarim groaned.

"I _just_ finished the laundry, too." he lamented.

Hafa kissed his mouth again. "I can help with the laundry."

.

.

.

Vivid blue eyes snapped open, and Hafa was wide awake.

He wasn't sure what had woken him. Makarim's head was resting on his shoulder, and on his other side Ru'a was clinging to Hafa's arm, snoring softly, her brother curled up behind her. All in all this was the most serene night that Hafa had experienced in this room; Makarim was sleeping soundly, having been so exhausted after their lovemaking and the second load of laundry that he'd fallen asleep straight away. The four of them slept on the floor, the bed too small to hold all of them. Although Makarim had initially tried to convince the twins to use the bed, they refused every night and preferred to sleep with the men on the floor. Makarim did nothing to dissuade them.

The blissful calm of the night was part of the problem. What had woken him? His exploits with Makarim earlier had successfully fatigued him, he had been positive that he could sleep an entire eight hours and then some; so why was he now awake in the middle of the night, every bone in his body buzzing?

An answer came to him in the form of hurried whispers coming from the end of the hall. Hafa sat up so quickly that Ru'a toppled over and Makarim's head hit the bedding so abruptly that he groaned and opened his eyes.

"Haru, what-"

"Shh." Hafa cut in harshly. All three of the other bed occupants were now awake, listening, bodies rigid as unease settled into the atmosphere. Something was wrong.

"Get dressed, quickly," Hafa urged everyone in a hushed voice, grabbing his own freshly cleaned clothes as he stood and made for the door. Behind him, Rani and Ru'a were throwing on their clothes with impressive speed, both of them mute and terrified; Makarim pulled his green thawb over his head hastily, joining Hafa at the door to listen.

The voices were closer, but the tension had lessened slightly when they realized who it was. Hafa opened the door as quietly as he could manage, greeting Najiya and Reem who also looked like they'd just thrown their clothes on in a hurry. Najiya's hair was mussed, his eyes wide in alarm.

"What's wrong?" Hafa asked them.

"Good, you're dressed," Reem said in a whisper. "It's time to go. I think they're here."

"Who?" Makarim felt cold panic shoot into his chest and neck.

"The Holy Guard, we're pretty sure," Najiya said. "We heard noises coming from the next building over, banging and yelling. Asilah is talking to someone, _really_ loudly… I think she's trying to warn us."

Ru'a and Rani were gripping Makarim's arms. "Those men dressed in black are here?" Ru'a whispered, her face alight with terror.

"We'll be gone before they even find a way into this building," Makarim said soothingly. He interchanged a telling look with Hafa. The fact that they had found their way into the building in the first place was a horrifying event.

"Let's go. Right now." Hafa ordered as Makarim ducked into the room to grab one of the bags that held the medical supplies and water. He slung it over his shoulder and ushered the twins out of the room, quietly closing it behind them.

In the event that something like this were to happen, the men had previously scoured their floor for possible escape routes. Reem had located a room that was largely unused due to structural problems and a broken, drafty window that had a twelve-foot drop to the roof of the first floor. They headed there now, spurred on by the sound of heavy boots on the balcony. The men simultaneously realized that the guards had found their floor.

Echoing voices reached their ears, accompanied by the pounding of boots coming from the other end of the corridor. The group tore down the hall, no longer concerning themselves with being quiet, only stopping once they'd reached the door to the vacant room. Najiya pulled it open and everyone piled inside, Reem securing the door with a thick brass deadbolt.

The room was an unfortunate mess of boxes and supplies for repairing damages and furniture. The escape window leading to the rooftop below was open with no means of shutting it, letting in the night air and a chilly breeze. A tall, tattered wooden wardrobe sat against the wall beside it, casting an ominous shadow over the rest of the clutter.

"How do we know they aren't down there waiting for us, too?" Ru'a asked fearfully, eyeing the window.

"Or that we won't get hurt jumping down?" Rani added.

"I'm going down first to make sure it's safe," Hafa answered, hands on the window sill, looking down below. He couldn't see anyone below them, the night was calm and the streets were unoccupied, but he knew that could change at any moment. "I'll catch you to make sure you don't get hurt."

A sudden pound at the door made Ru'a squeak in fear, and Makarim grabbed her small shoulders protectively.

" _Shit_ ," Najiya gasped, and Reem drew his sword, pointing it evenly at the door.

"Get a move on!" Reem barked, with all the authoritative impatience of his rank. "The door is thick but I doubt it will hold for too much longer."

Hafa needed no other incentive. He scanned the dark rooftop for only a split second before making the leap, landing hard on his heels, pain shooting up his calves. The roof was much more decayed than he'd expected but thankfully it held him.

Makarim was watching him from above with concern, but Hafa waved him off and motioned for him to send down one of the children.

"Big brother, are you sure about this?" Rani asked, when suddenly the door was pounded on so violently that splinters of wood flung from the cracking frame. He started, and Ru'a backed toward the window.

" _Quickly_ ," Makarim urged, helping Ru'a to climb up onto the sill. He kissed her hair encouragingly, and Hafa held out his arms for her.

Ru'a shut her eyes and jumped. Hafa caught her easily, and was rewarded with wide, blinking eyes and a look of relief on her rosy face. He gently set her down and prepared to catch Rani, who seemed much more at ease now that he'd seen Ru'a land unharmed.

"Come on," Najiya said, hands circled around Reem's arm as the shouts from the other side of the door were getting more intense, "let's go, before-"

"You and Makarim first," Reem said, sword still pointed to the door. "I'll follow."

Knowing there was little point in arguing, Najiya reluctantly went to the window and hoisted himself up, waiting for those below to clear the way before making his jump. He fell awkwardly, his left side taking most of the blow. Hafa helped him stagger to his feet.

Makarim watched nervously. When he saw that Najiya was alright and subsequently that the door to the room was dangerously close to breaking open, he stared worriedly at Reem.

"I'm jumping, so get ready to follow," Makarim said warningly.

"I'm behind you," Reem assured, but his voice sounded strained and hollow.

Makarim jumped. His landing was somehow less graceful than Najiya's, but altogether he was unharmed. Hafa and Rani helped him to his feet, and then all eyes moved to the window to await Reem's descent.

No one had expected the dresser next to the window to be painstakingly pushed into view, or to hear the muted splintering of a breaking door and the unmistakable resonance of weapons clashing in a desperate, one-sided fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this whole chapter is practically 99% smut I am so sorry (or I’m not sorry? aT aLL??) 
> 
> I also sincerely apologize for yet _another_ cliff-hanger ending, I swear I'm not doing it on purpose! uwu Poor Reem! Things just never seem to go well for these guys.
> 
> Edit: omg I fixed so many typos and re-worded so many things so hopefully the chapter makes more sense now (If it didn't before? idk some of that sounded so confusing when I did a quick read-through) TT__TT


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old acquaintance returns, Sharik gets what he wants, and the end is nigh.

The night was unreasonably brisk.

Perhaps it was the fact that for three nights they had been allowed the safety and warmth of the communal house that the air seemed so cold, but Hafa knew that Makarim and the twins were particularly unaccustomed to the back alleys in the middle of the night. To Hafa it didn't matter, as he had grown so numb to this brand of discomfort, but the twins were huddled on either side of Makarim both in fear and for warmth as he sat with his back against the stone wall of the alley, an arm draped over each of their shoulders. Hafa rubbed his hands together as he continued to stare evenly at the other end of the alley.

Several more minutes passed in uneasy silence before a figure emerged, and Najiya's unmistakable form jogged into view, out of breath and cheeks rosy from the crisp night air. There had been no time to grab cloaks or anything else to keep themselves warm, and out of all of them, Najiya was the least prepared for the cold. Still, he only mildly trembled as he gathered his breath, his expression unreadable as Makarim stood up, the twins gripping him tightly and all of them staring at Najiya fearfully.

"Well?" Hafa urged.

Najiya looked close to tears, but it seemed to be from relief. "He's alive," he said, and all present collectively exhaled a breath. "I saw them taking Reem to the palace, but he was _alive_ ," Najiya continued, falling silent so that he could rub his eyes.

After Reem had blocked off the window to fight off the Holy Guard and buy them time, Najiya had called for him several times in desperation before Hafa had been forced to grab the boy around the middle and drag him off. They were unbelieving of Reem's decision to protect them but they had to accept it. There was nothing to be done other than make sure his sacrifice wasn't all for naught.

Najiya had steeled himself in order to guide the others through a maze of back alleys that even Makarim hadn't even been aware of - he'd been sure that he knew the streets better than almost anyone - and they camped themselves in a particularly dark corner occupied only by a small orange cat perched on the wall nonchalantly cleaning itself. Najiya had left them a half an hour later to survey their situation and see if he might find Reem.

"Thank the Gods," Makarim breathed, holding his face in his hand. "I can't believe it. I was so worried that they'd…"

"Me too," Najiya was still rubbing his eyes.

"Why did they feel the need to take him back? Are they arresting him?" Hafa asked no one in particular.

Makarim was rubbing his siblings' backs, determined to keep the worst of the cold away. "You don't think… Do you think they're going to try and get information from him?" he asked feebly. Najiya's eyes grew large with fear.

"We can't let them do anything to him!" he exclaimed passionately. "We have to go rescue him!"

There wasn't a person present who disagreed with this sentiment, but the question of _how_ rang hollow among the company. Aside from Hafa's ability to regenerate his life, none of them were skilled in combat or had any chance of going against the Holy Guard, or Sharik, for that matter. Makarim regarded the ring on his right hand, biting his lip in thought. The cat above them stretched and yawned, flicking its tail lazily.

"I agree," he said, and the twins glanced up at him with identical looks of surprise. "We have to go get Reem. We can't abandon him after everything that's happened."

Najiya's fists flew into the air in victory. " _Alright_! Let's go!"

"Wait a minute," Hafa said, holding out a hand. "We can't just rush in without any kind of a plan. I agree that we should try and help Reem, but this might be exactly what Sharik wants. What if he's using Reem as a lure?"

"Even if he is, we can't leave him, Haru," Makarim said. "Enough people have suffered because of this ridiculous ring. I owe Reem a debt." He sighed, looking down at the twins. "But I agree that we need some kind of plan. We're outnumbered and outmatched, and Haru's right, this could be a plot to get the ring. And there's the matter of protecting you two…" he said, stroking Rani and Ru'a's hair.

"We could come too!" Ru'a exclaimed, gripping Makarim's green thawb tightly in her hand.

"We owe Reem a debt too! We could help you guys!" Rani put in. Makarim shook his head sternly.

"It's going to be dangerous. If anything happened to you two-"

"If anything happened to _you_ , big brother, where would we be?" Ru'a spat with a stubborn pout.

"But-"

"She has a point, Makarim," Hafa said.

" _Haru_!"

"Think about it," Hafa offered seriously, "our options at this point are thinning. If we stay in the city, it's only a matter of time before we get caught. We can't run forever, and Sharik will turn the city upside down if he has to. The one place we thought we were safe was discovered so _quickly_. The only other option is leaving the city, but to where? If Reem's suspicions were correct that Sharik really did just declare war on the kingdoms, then we're not safe anywhere. The best option is also the most dangerous one, and that's going to the palace and fighting Sharik head-on using the ring."

Rani touched the ring on Makarim's finger. "Is it _really_ magic, big brother? I know you said so, but it seems like such an ordinary ring."

The men had explained the situation to the best of their ability to the twins days previous, but it had all been a rather difficult tonic to swallow.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's really true," Makarim said with a lugubrious smile. He glanced up at Hafa. "I think it would be best if I go alone to the palace. If you could look after Rani and Ru'a-"

"That is _not_ happening," Hafa said, his voice bristling with indignance.

"He's right, it's not!" Rani exclaimed. "We're all going together!"

"Mako, honestly, they're in danger either way," Najiya pointed out. "Whether they go to the palace with us or stay hidden in the city, it doesn't matter. At least if they're with us, we can protect them as best we can."

"See?" Ru'a chirped.

"You're not helping," Makarim sighed.

"If leaving the city to find somewhere new to live isn't an option, that's really the only choice you have left," reasoned the orange cat.

"Okay, okay." Makarim said relentingly, "I suppose that makes sense, but I still can't condone putting you two in jeopardy like that."

"Like Najiya said, we're in danger already." Ru'a said determinedly. "We want to help protect everyone! Reem saved us, _twice_ , and he tried to save papa, too."

"We can find a safe place to keep them while we look for Sharik," Hafa said. "Najiya should know a few safe places in the palace, right? You stayed there for the better part of a week, didn't you?" He directed his questions to Najiya, who nodded avidly.

Makarim heaved a heavy sigh, leveling the twins a severe look. Finally he bowed his head in defeat. "Alright. It's decided… But we still have to figure out some kind of plan. I doubt we can just walk right into the palace undetect-"

All eyes swerved to the previously unnoticed and exceedingly ordinary orange cat that was still washing its face gingerly, the color draining from Makarim's face altogether.

"Did… Did that cat just…?"

Najiya looked as if he'd just had a revelation. "Did it _talk_?"

Hafa frowned. "It took you that long to notice?" he asked incredulously.

"I figured _you_ would have noticed, at least," the cat said casually, lowering its paw and stretching out on the wall. The twins both gasped harmoniously and Najiya practically fell over. Makarim blinked in recognition, mouth widening in surprise.

"Wait… _You_ again?"

The cat's eyes glinted in the darkness, shining more brightly than the waning moon above them. In moments the cat's form had faded to vapor and took the shape of a slim, curvaceous woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair, dressed just as scantily as when they had first met in the tomb.

" _Me_ again? Do you hear how ungrateful you sound?" the jann scolded, and Makarim immediately waved his hands in front of himself in a frantically apologetic manner.

"That isn't how I meant it! I was just surprised!" he sputtered, the twins staring at the floating woman with slackened jaws.

"What are you doing here?" Hafa asked curiously. He knew that janns had an unusual attraction to humans, but purposefully hanging around the bearer of the ring that had imprisoned her for over a thousand years seemed particularly foolhardy.

The jann tossed Hafa a pout and braced her hands on her bare hips. "Well… To be honest with you… After living for so long in that tomb and stretch of sand, I really didn't know where to go or what to do when you released me. None of the places I'd once known are still standing, and so much has changed… So I just figured I would hang around the city to see if anything interesting was happening."

"Have you been following us?" Makarim asked.

"Not exclusively," the jann replied unconvincingly.

"Is… Is she a real _djinn_?" Rani asked in wonder, his eyes as round as dinner plates.

Najiya turned to Hafa. "She's a djinn like you?" he asked, and Hafa nodded.

"Oh look," the jann cried, floating closer to the twins and clasping her hands together, " _twins_! Such a fascinating reproductive phenomenon! They look so much like you!"

The twins were both ecstatic and awestruck at being complemented in any form by a magical creature; Najiya stepped forward, gaining the jann's attention.

"Excuse me… Could you help us? Our friend has been taken to the palace, and we need to rescue him. So I thought that maybe-"

" _Ugh_ , I'm free for a few measly days and already humans are asking things of me!" the jann said in aggravation, throwing her arms in the air. She pointed a finger accusingly at Makarim. "And if you even _think_ about trying to enslave me again…"

"I-I wouldn't!" Makarim assured guiltily.

Hafa put a hand on Najiya's shoulder and regarded the jann with a cool understanding. "No one's going to force you into anything. But if you're here and you're bored, you may as well help us."

"Who said I was bored!" the jann said shrilly, but there was an embarrassed tinge to her pale cheeks. She crossed her arms stubbornly and narrowed her eyes at the wall beside them. "Besides, I'm not a fighter. There's no way I could help you bypass guards or anything like that…"

"That's not the kind of help we're looking for exactly," Makarim put in.

"The ifrit Sharik is after the Seal of Solomon," said Hafa, and the jann's attention swept his way, interest piqued. "We have to stop whatever he's planning. If he gets the Seal, there's no telling what he'll do with it. Djinn-kind might not even be safe."

The jann looked momentarily concerned. " _That_ tyrant? Armed with the Seal?" She physically shivered. "That wouldn't be good for anyone, would it?"

"So you'll help us?" Najiya was hopping on the balls of his feet, hands clapping eagerly.

A long sigh blew through the jann's soft pink lips. "Do you all even have a plan yet? How do you plan on disarming him?"

There was a collective silence. Finally Najiya pointed a finger in the air. "We know Sharik's name, right? Aren't your names really important? Can't Mako just summon him using the ring, and make him stop all of this?"

Hafa shook his head, and the jann looked almost wistful at the thought. "Sharik is possessing a human body, he can't be summoned or controlled. He exists on the mortal plane now. I'm willing to bet that was part of his plan all along."

Floating over their heads in a lazy, languid fashion, the jann tutted. "He's weak without his host, right? So if you exorcised him out, you could easily deal with him. But you'd have to perform the exorcism first."

Makarim blanched. "I don't have the faintest idea how to do something like that!"

"It's easy if you use the Seal," the jann pointed out. "It basically does it all _for_ you, so don't fret. You just use its power along with your will. Like when you freed me."

"It's settled then!" Najiya announced. "We go to the palace, rescue Reem, and then we exorcise Sharik out of the Prince, banish him or whatever, and _voila_! The day is saved, right?"

"You make all of that sound _really_ easy," Rani observed skeptically.

Hafa agreed that this seemed to be the best plan of action, despite Najiya's overly optimistic viewpoint. Part of him worried that Sharik was so deeply integrated in Rim that the two had become as one being and were beyond the point of separation. Still, he knew there was no other choice but to try. The alternative to exorcism was not something he wanted to explore even on a theoretical level.

"What exactly do you need _me_ to do?" the jann asked curiously. "You asked for my help, after all."

"Transporting us all to the palace would be a nice start." Hafa replied. "Somewhere isolated and close to the prisons."

The jann huffed. "Transporting this many people? You've been without an ethereal body for too long, you forget how difficult it is to do something of that magnitude!"

"Wasn't it a single, humble djinn that told King Solomon that they could bring the throne of the Queen of Yemen to Jerusalem faster than it would take for him to stand up from his chair?" Hafa challenged, and the jann opened her mouth to object but quickly found that she couldn't.

Almost grudgingly, the jann twirled her finger in the air. " _I will bring it thee before thou canst rise from thy place._ **"** she quoted, and then sighed in resignation.

"Did the djinn actually _do it_ , though?" Najiya asked unhelpfully, and Hafa frowned at him.

"Is that really important right now?"

"Alright, fine," the jann said, defeated. "I'll take you there. It shouldn't be _too_ hard, but I _am_ a bit rusty. And since I've never been in the palace before, I'm going to need at least one of you to picture in your mind where it is we're going. I refuse to take responsibility if you get stuck somewhere unfortunate!"

Makarim smiled in relief. "Before we go, is there something we can call you? That is, aside from 'Miss Jann'?"

The jann considered Makarim for a moment with an expression of discernible skepticism. Her dainty lips pulled into a smile. "I rather like the 'Miss', part… As for a name, you can call me Maha, if you like."

.

.

The dull clunk of metal roused Reem with a painful promptness, his head searing with pain and his body so sore he feared he had suffered broken bones. He groaned, moving to sit up and immediately abandoning the attempt. He knew where he was. He could smell the iron, waste and damp stone from all sides, and the familiar sound of boots walking away accompanied by the cadence of keys jingling.

He was in the dungeon of the palace. How or why he was here remained a mystery. The last thing he recalled clearly was blocking the window to the room at the communal house just as the door burst open. He had fought valiantly, but was overpowered within minutes, a spear lodged in his shoulder pinning him to the wall as the guards disarmed him. He lost consciousness shortly after, and woke blearily a handful of times in a fleeting manner as they carted him back to the palace.

They were likely planning to interrogate him. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he didn't plan on giving them anything, in spite of what they forced him to endure. He had made his decision the moment Tahiyah was killed. He wouldn't let anyone else be harmed, no matter what the cost. He would do what he could to prevent Sharik from obtaining the Seal. This was greatly important, he knew this, but he also knew that it meant so much more to him to see Najiya safe as well as the rest of his new companions, and for this he felt immensely guilty.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing Reem to jump from the unexpected contact. A pair of fiery orange eyes were looking down at him with both concern and surprise, and Reem stifled a gasp, forcing himself to sit up with the added support from the hand gripping his shoulder.

"Vizier!" Reem said, his voice somewhat hoarse. Siraj al Din pressed a finger to his lips, eyes darting to the guard standing near the door of the cell. The vizier looked as if he'd been beaten, his face dark with dirt and sweat and his lip and cheek cut open and bruised. The intensity in his eyes was as fierce as ever, which made Reem hopeful.

"Agha Reem, what are you _doing_ in here?" the vizier demanded in a whisper. "Is the Princess safe?"

Reem grimaced and looked down. "I can't say for certain," he said regretfully. "I've been gone from the palace for several days."

"I _thought_ I left her in your care," the vizier said angrily. "You were supposed to protect her."

"I apologize. Haru was cast out of the palace by the Prince, and the Princess gave me permission to seek him out."

"And they brought you back again? What for?" Siraj al Din asked quietly.

"Quiet in there, I can hear you being chatty," barked the guard, banging loudly on the bars. Both Reem and Siraj al Din fell into a timid silence, both of them furiously trying to figure out what to do. Reem wanted to tell him what was going on, he wanted to relay all the information he'd gotten, but it was too likely that they'd be overheard. The two men resigned themselves to sitting by the wall as Siraj al Din helped Reem with the various wounds he had sustained, namely his speared shoulder, which was thankfully a much more shallow wound than Reem had originally assumed.

Several minutes rolled by until a familiar voice caught their ear. It was just out of sight, at the other end of the sloped stone tunnel, talking with some of the other guards. The clanking of iron cups floated to them in their cell, and then approaching footsteps and the light tinkling of an outfit ill-suited for the prison halls.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be down here," the guard spat hotly. A silver-haired young man stepped into view, strolling passed the men's cell carrying a tray with two cups. He was walking carefully to avoid spilling the contents of the cups, but he managed a fleeting glance in their direction as he approached the guard.

"I'm here on order of Prince Rim," Aini said in feign concern, stopping just short of the guard's spear. "Doesn't someone typically bring you all your water around this time? I wouldn't have thought this to be a surprise."

"The Prince has never sent his concubine to carry out a servant's job," the guard answered in mild suspicion.

"If you haven't noticed," Aini said with a charming smile, "the palace is lacking reliable servants at the moment. They either want to leave or they already have. And the ones who didn't get away are filling up the rest of these cells." Aini squirmed endearingly and shifted the weight of the tray with an uncomfortable grunt. "Really, these are getting _heavy_."

Lowering the spear, the guard moved forward and picked up one of the iron cups. Aini immediately sighed in relief. " _Thank_ you."

The guard took a long drink from the cup, and as Aini turned to leave, he made several grunts and hand gestures to employ Aini's attention.

"Just leave the rest there," he said after having swallowed his water, and Aini obeyed by setting the tray down on the small, dusty table he had indicated. "In case anyone else wants some."

Aini nodded respectfully to the man and turned to leave. This time, he didn't so much as glance in Reem's direction.

It was not long before Reem and Siraj al Din noticed a change in the guard by their cell. His head was drooping, eyes steadily falling closed; each time he would catch himself and stand rigid and alert for another few moments before repeating the behavior. It was when he finally rested his head against the cell bars and slid slowly down the wall into a crumpled pile on the ground that Aini reappeared, waving a hand in front of the guard's unresponsive face before snatching his keys and fumbling with the cell's lock. Reem and Siraj al Din were on their feet in an instant.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Aini said hurriedly, the lock finally popping open. He pulled open the door, looking over the two men. "Agha Reem, I'd heard that you were brought back but I had no _idea-_ "

"We're just glad that you're here, Aini." Siraj al Din said, casting the guard a look. "Did you…?"

"Sleeping draught. It should knock them out for a couple of hours at least," he said. "Now quickly, help me with them!"

Aini grabbed the guard under the arms, and Reem immediately followed suit and hoisted up the legs. Together they carried him into the cell, and then went to grab the next guard to do the same. Siraj al Din assisted by hoisting up a guard and throwing him over his massive shoulder, carrying him into the cell without help.

"Where- have you- been?" Aini huffed as they carried another into the cell. They dropped him on the pile just as Siraj al Din dragged in the last drugged man.

Reem wiped his brow. "Finding Haru. Other circumstances kept me from returning."

"He really _is_ alive?" Aini asked incredulously. "But I saw him…!"

"There's much more to it, I promise you, and I'll tell both of you _everything_ I've learned. But first, what are you doing?"

Aini had pulled the boots off of one of the guards and was now pulling free his black uniform and belts.

"If you two are to move around the palace with any semblance of freedom, you're going to want to dress appropriately," Aini said as he successfully stripped the man. "This one looks about your size," he added, handing Reem the uniform. "Change quickly."

Reem couldn't argue with this logic and seized the uniform, discarding his own uniform promptly and re-dressing himself as Siraj al Din started taking the uniform from the tallest soldier.

"What's the situation?" Siraj al Din asked as he started changing. "Has word of the Prince's treason spread to the other kingdoms? Where is Princess Ghazi?"

"That's why I risked coming here tonight," Aini said, currently stripping the smallest of the guards. "All communications with the kingdoms has been severed, but they're suspicious of us. I should be more worried about that, but…" Aini shook his head. "Rim took Ghazi to the throne room and has completely locked it down. They've been in there for hours, and I've only seen the Holy Guard enter or leave, sometimes with paint or salt in hand. I tried asking what was going on, but I was brushed off, and Rim wouldn't see me."

"Paint and salt?" Reem repeated, replacing his turban with the Holy Guard's head adornment. His eye glasses were going to stick out like a sore thumb, so he carefully removed them and placed them in his jacket. The world was blurrier, but he knew how to get around the palace well enough.

"That sounds almost ritualistic." Siraj al Din said worriedly.

"What's the plan?" Reem asked, his side and shoulder burning as he picked up the heavy golden shield of the Holy Guard.

Aini was nearly done dressing; he had removed all of his glittering jewelry and simply slipped the uniform over the rest of his sparse clothing. "I don't really have a plan beyond this one," he admitted dolefully. "I'm surprised this has worked out this well, to be honest."

After arming themselves with spears and shields, the men closed the cell and locked it; Aini disappeared only for a moment to free the servants who had been imprisoned, instructing them to leave the palace as quickly and quietly as possible. He tossed the keys in a bucket of waste.

"I say that we try our luck infiltrating the throne room to see what's happening," Siraj al Din suggested fiercely. "The Prince is not himself. I worry for the Princess's safety."

"You don't know the half of it, vizier," Reem said regretfully. "I have a lot to tell you two before we decide on doing _anything_."

.

.

.

It was a feeling long forgotten but remembered just as quickly.

A strong, nauseating pull under the navel and a lurch forward. The world was rushing around their ears in a deafening blur of echos and color, blotting out the night, encasing them in a tunnel of indescribable sensation. Hafa recalled this form of travel, once so second nature to him, and in a split second it was over, senses and gravity and reality crashing down around them and sending them all tumbling forward. Najiya landed on top of Makarim knocking the wind out of him, and both Rani and Ru'a ended up in a haphazard pile beside Hafa, who landed the most gracefully mostly out of habit.

They were in the palace. Over-sized palm leaves and other exotic flora surrounded them, and Hafa's eyes immediately lit up.

"Here… Why did you bring us _here_?" he demanded.

Maha appeared a moment later, floating over the calm oasis, the focal point of the room.

"Be grateful I brought you at all!" she said hotly. "I told you to focus on where you wanted to go. This was the location that came up the most prominently!"

Both Hafa and Makarim felt themselves redden, but there was hardly any time to dwell on it. They were alone, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would be bursting into this sort of room for any reason. It was better than nothing.

Makarim was helping his siblings to their feet, fussing over them, when the jann suddenly became a fawn-coated field mouse and scurried up Ru'a's leg and back, coming to rest on her shoulder. Ru'a seemed delighted. "Furthermore, I won't be getting involved any further. At the first sign of trouble, I'm out of here."

"Thank you for doing this, really," Makarim said , clasping his hands together. "Is it possible I could ask one more thing of you?"

"Depends on what it is," the mouse squeaked.

"If we _do_ end up in some sort of danger, could you transport my siblings back to the city?"

Ru'a gasped as if she'd been betrayed. "Big brother! You said we could come along-"

"I agreed to that because it was - and still is - the best option right now." Makarim said sternly. "But if things get dangerous, I'd prefer you two lay low in the city until it's safe to go find Asilah."

"No!" Rani almost shouted, face contorted in determination, "we aren't leaving you! If things get tough, we can help!"

"It isn't up for debate!" Makarim said in such a serious tone of voice that both of the twins immediately ceased speaking. "The two of you are to wait right here until we get back. Neither of you are to leave this room unless one of us tells you it's safe, okay?" The twins nodded unhesitatingly. He glanced back at the field mouse. "Please. If something happens, feel free to run, but if you could take my siblings safely back to the city, I would be grateful to you until the end of my days."

There was a thoughtful silence that filled the cavernous room until finally the mouse sneezed.

"I promise. But only because a descendant of Solomon is offering me his eternal gratitude."

Makarim smiled and let out a content sigh. "Thank you," he said.

"Where are the prisons from here?" Hafa asked Najiya, who was so absorbed in the conversation that he started at the question.

"We're not close at all, really," Najiya answered with a pout. "It's quite a way. We're going to have to be _really_ careful."

Walking to the center of the room, Hafa knelt down and dipped his hand in the cool oasis. The sensation of the water against his skin sent shivers shooting down his spine and he could almost _feel_ the displacency settling into the water as if it had been poisoned.

Hafa found himself mourning the loss of his cutlass, a beautiful curved blade he'd found on a corpse in the desert years ago that he had lost shortly before Makarim had found him and brought him to the city. Such a thing would undoubtedly come in handy now. "We could really use some weapons," Hafa lamented, fighting his continually growing urges to take a quick dip in the oasis before heading out.

"Oh!" Najiya chimed, skipping over to Hafa while rummaging in the outer pockets of his harem pants. He pulled free a sword, sturdy and modest in length, extending it to Hafa. "Reem was making me carry this around. I really don't know how to use it, though, so it'd probably be better if you hung onto it."

Taking the blade, Hafa looked it over before slipping it under the leather belt that hid amongst the layers of cloth and gold at his hip. "Thanks."

All eyes moved to Makarim, the bearer of the Seal, and for only a moment he distinctly looked as if he had no idea what to do with the responsibility being put upon him. Quickly he steeled himself, exhaled a deep breath, and shot the twins a stern look. "Stay here, and stay hidden. If you hear the door open, you hide until you know it's us, okay?"

"Okay," Ru'a agreed, hugging Makarim around the middle. Rani joined her.

"You better come back safe!" Rani cried.

Makarim ruffled his hair and smiled. "I will. In the meantime, listen to Miss Maha."

The mouse's ears perked up in apparent happiness at this, and Ru'a couldn't help but offer her finger to the small creature to scratch under its chin. Maha gratefully accepted the pampering.

Makarim turned to the others. "Let's go, then," he said, making toward the door.

The men opened the doors with care, peering out into the hall before quietly exiting and closing the doors behind them. The palace was incredibly quiet. It would have been a relief if it weren't so unnerving, but none of the men found any use in dwelling on it.

"Which way?" Makarim asked, and Najiya pointed knowingly to their right.

They walked for a time in silence. The lack of guards and servants was almost alarming.

"So how exactly do we break Reem out, assuming he _is_ in the prisons?" Makarim asked worriedly. Hafa had been wondering this as well. If there were as many guards down there as he feared, he wasn't entirely confident that they would stand a chance.

"I'm going in first. I'll see what we're dealing with and we'll figure it out from there." Hafa offered. It really was the best way. Among them, he was the only one who couldn't die. Even if he was caught the other two would still stand a chance of getting away.

"Haru-"

A sharp whistling accompanied by a sudden breeze stopped the men in their tracks. A spear had been launched from a hallway to the left of them, narrowly missing Najiya's left shoulder and clattering to the ground. Four armed soldiers were racing to meet them. Hafa launched himself at the fallen spear, tossing it to Makarim who caught it one-handed and brandished it defensively.

"This way!" Najiya yelled, but as soon as they'd turned, three more of the Holy Guard were approaching them menacingly, shields held high and spears at the ready.

Hafa wasted no time. He pulled free the sword Najiya had given him and attacked the leader of the first group, the blade deflected against golden-plated steel. He swung again, his movements unnaturally swift and precise, and this time he met the other's spear. Angling his sword down and flicking his wrist to the left he successfully disarmed the man and swiped his blade across the man's chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

A yelp from behind caught his attention; both he and Makarim turned to see Najiya being held by one of the three who had them cornered, the steel of a dagger pointed at his throat.

"Drop your weapons," commanded the soldier, and Makarim obeyed without question. With a cold scowl, Hafa followed suit, and the two guards approached him with their weapons drawn.

It dawned on him about the same time the guards flew past him and attacked the others. The Holy Guard was so shocked at the turn of events that they had left themselves hilariously open, granting Reem and Siraj al Din an easy victory over them. Aini released Najiya, who was staring with wide eyes at the confusing scene, his mouth gaping. Makarim was smiling in a way that suggested he'd been the first to notice.

Siraj al Din pulled his spear free of the last guard. Reem was staring Hafa, Najiya and Makarim down as if _they_ were the ones wearing enemy uniforms.

"How in the world did you three get _in-_ " Reem's sentence was cut short due to a sudden and fierce hug from a distraught blonde. In seconds Najiya's arms were circled around Reem's neck, standing on tip-toes and crying into his shoulder.

"Reem! I can't believe it! You're _okay_! _You're okay_!" Wincing in pain, Reem gently took Najiya by the shoulders and pried him off.

"I didn't mean to worry you so much…" he said with a sad smile. Najiya wiped some of his tears away, shaking his head.

"That's _exactly_ what you did!" he exclaimed bitterly, "We were all so worried about you - we thought - _we thought_ -"

"I think what he's trying to say," Makarim cut in to give Najiya a moment to collect himself, "is that we were all terribly worried about you. You gave us quite a scare."

"I'm sorry," Reem said sincerely. Najiya sniffled.

"Don't apologize," Hafa said with an intense look in his direction, "just promise to never throw your life away for us ever again."

Reem seemed stunned by Hafa's words. Whether he found them heart-warming or harsh was left to their imagination as Siraj al Din beckoned everyone's attention with a wave of his spear.

"I understand that you all want to speak with each other, but this is incredibly poor timing," he said reproachfully. "We just made a lot of noise, and I really think we should get moving."

"Reem told us everything," Aini added, gaze dropping to the band circled around Makarim's middle finger. "You shouldn't have brought that here. That's probably exactly what the ifrit had planned."

"We didn't have a choice," Hafa said defensively. "The Seal is the only chance we have to stop all of this. If we don't remove Sharik from Rim, he'll use every resource at his disposal to achieve his goal some other way."

"The Prince is holding Princess Ghazi in the throne room," Siraj al Din said, stepping toward Hafa. "Do you have any idea what he might be planning?"

Hafa felt a tremor of cold fear run through him. There were hundreds of reasons Sharik could be using Ghazi, and hundreds of horrible things he could be doing to her. There didn't have to be a reason other than making her suffer, or making Rim suffer, or both.

"No," Hafa chose to answer instead. There was no sense in causing any unnecessary anxiety. "We should get there as soon as we can."

"We were on our way there when we spotted you." Aini said worriedly.

Reem looked around for a moment with a sudden look of panic. "Where are Rani and Ru'a? Are they somewhere safe?"

"The Prince's oasis room," Makarim said. "They're with a friendly jann."

Siraj al Din pointed his spear at Aini. "I want you to go find Makarim's siblings. Take them to the servants quarters, for extra protection. The rest of you, grab weapons off of these corpses and follow us to the throne room. We're going to rescue Princess Ghazi and put an end to all of this."

Aini looked particularly torn, and so Siraj al Din added, a little more warmly: "You're not a soldier, Aini. I promise we'll do everything we can to rescue those who are dear to you."

Nodding obediently, Aini started off down the hall when suddenly Najiya lept forward with a hand extended. "Wait!" he chimed, and Aini halted, turning. "We told them not to trust anyone, right? We don't want Miss Maha zapping them out of here by mistake. I'll come with you so they know it's safe."

"Thank you," Makarim said appreciatively.

Najiya smiled, and then whirled on Reem, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "You had better be careful, Reem! I'm not done talking to you yet!" he exclaimed, and Reem nodded with a penitent grin. The blonde hopped up to hug Reem again, gentler and more careful of his wounds.

Starting after Aini, Najiya called over his shoulder, "That goes for all of you! Be really careful!"

.

.

.

The doors to the throne room were open.

This was not a good sign.

Watching from behind a large marble pillar, Reem had long since replaced his eye glasses on his face, their situation not ideal for blurry vision.

"We're expected, it seems," he said quietly. "For as long as I've lived here in the palace, never have I seen those doors thrown open like that."

Siraj al Din sighed and scratched his fingers roughly through his hair. "We have to formulate some kind of strategy. The way I see it, we have two priorities. Ensuring the Princess's safety, and keeping _that-_ " he nodded purposefully at the silver ring on Makarim's finger, "-away from the Prince's reach."

Hafa agreed wholeheartedly, but presumably for different reasons. Makarim was frowning.

"If you're suggesting I stay behind-"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Siraj al Din countered. "At least until we can secure the inside of that room. If we go walking into a trap with the ring in plain sight, we're setting ourselves up for failure."

"How am I meant to exorcise the Prince if I don't come with you? What if you need my help?" Makarim asked in concern.

"I didn't say it was a fantastic plan," admitted the vizier, "but it's the best I can think of."

" _Everyone quiet_ ," Hafa hissed sharply, a hand raised as he listened.

There was a stain in the atmosphere that felt tense and ready to snap. Hafa had felt it first, _strongly_ , and the others followed shortly after, the company falling into an uncomfortable silence.

It happened in a flash of silver and metal. The Holy Guard had dropped down around their ears as if they'd been waiting on the ceiling, and the four men were quickly and efficiently overwhelmed. There was swinging and shouting and cursing as the guards wrestled the men into submission. A voice called from the throne room, echoing and unnaturally loud, and all movement and sound seemed to disappear as it rang clearly through the hall.

" _Bring them to me_."

Hafa, Makarim, Reem and Siraj al Din were pulled to their feet, arms and shoulders weighed down by two sets of hands per prisoner as they were walked silently into the throne room. From behind them, someone shut the doors.

The room was expansive and dark. The only sources of light were the torches that blazed in tall, free-standing iron holders, the open walls behind the throne letting in only night air and the faint outline of sand dunes. Though the torches were haphazardly laid out, in the center of the room just in front of the throne itself the torches were set in a wide, deliberate semi-circle, surrounding a mess of symbols painted on the floor. The markings made up a perfect circle, and not two feet from the circle was a smaller triangle that bore similar symbols and letters. In the center of the triangle sat Ghazi, chained at the neck to the floor.

" _Princess_!"

Siraj al Din tried to twist out of his captor's grip, and received a sharp blow to the head which dropped him to his knees. As if on cue, the other three were forced to their knees as well, just in time to see the Prince rise from his ornate throne like a snake from a basket.

"Cover that one's mouth," Sharik ordered, indicating Makarim, and he was immediately grabbed by his hair, his head wrenched back, a hand covering his mouth. "As long as he wears the Seal, I don't trust him to speak."

Fury and helplessness were stirring in the pit of Hafa's stomach. Once again, there was no exit. There was nothing he could do to help Makarim or Ghazi or anyone else. His mortality limited him. They had walked directly into Sharik's hand, and Hafa wasn't sure what to do next.

The Prince strolled past Ghazi, who looked as if she'd just woken from a daze. She looked at the kneeling men, eyes wide with fear, chains clanking against the smooth floor as she tried and failed to move.

"What are you doing to the Princess?" Reem demanded furiously as Sharik approached. The Prince didn't so much as glance in his direction. His crimson eyes were locked on the silver band on Makarim's middle finger.

"It isn't so much what I'm _doing_ with her as what I'm _going_ to do with her," the Prince said, his gaze drifting to Hafa. He smiled, his pointed teeth perfectly aligned and shining in the low light. "I should have figured you would have found your way back here. Although, I wasn't expecting you to bring a _present_ with you." His eyes were trained on the ring again, and he knelt down close to Makarim, ignoring the defiant glare the merchant was throwing at him. "Hello," Sharik offered Makarim.

"Leave him be!" Hafa shouted, his heart seeing fit to beat its way out of his ribcage. "You can still stop this, we can still fix everything-"

"Shut him up," Sharik ordered, and the point of a spear was pressed to Hafa's throat. " _No_ , don't kill him. He can't die, anyhow. I want him to see this. Make him watch."

Hafa's hair was gripped tightly and his head was forced to turn. Sharik pulled a curved knife from his belt - the same blade used to gut Hafa days earlier - and grabbed Makarim's hand, pulling it forward and stepping on it with the sole of his shoe to hold it firmly in place. Hafa felt as if his heart had stopped. An emotion he'd never known before swelled in his stomach and chest.

" _Don't you fucking dare_ -"

"I said, shut him up." A hand clamped itself over Hafa's mouth to stifle his panicked shouts. Sharik pointed the tip of the blade just behind the iron ring at the base joint of Makarim's finger. Reem struggled against the guards and was subsequently shoved down and held to the ground.

"Makarim, son of Tahiyah, descendant of _Jedidiah,_ King of Israel and son of David… I've wanted to do this for a long time now," Sharik said, his eyes locking with Makarim's widened green irises. He raised the blade high in the air with a grin. "Just a forewarning, my aim is rather _poor_."

A surge of something hot and explosive shot through Hafa, and with more speed than he thought mortals possessed Hafa drew back and bit the hand of his captor so hard that he felt blood gush into his mouth. The guard yelled and pulled back, and Hafa ripped away from him, launching himself forward, diving under the descending blade.

The dagger found the flesh of Hafa's upper arm. The layers of cloth bunched around his shoulder lessened the damage, but still Hafa felt skin and muscle being sliced open, bringing forth a warm bounty of blood. Sharik fell back, having been knocked off-balance, staring in mild admiration as Hafa was roughly grabbed by guards and again restrained, blade protruding from his arm. Makarim's cries of concern were muffled by the hand covering his mouth as Sharik began to laugh.

"Hafa, you're too much!" the Prince said, covering his face with his hand. "Do you keep no pride? Have you become _that_ human, to do such reckless, frivolous acts of heroism?" Sharik stood up, brushing himself off as his laughter ebbed into breathless chuckles. "It's really very tragic."

Again he stepped on Makarim's hand, kneeling down to pull the ring off of his finger. He examined it closely, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger.

"The Seal of Solomon," he whispered, sliding the ring carefully onto his own finger. "I've searched for so long. For two-thousand years I've tracked every hapless mortal who shared Solomon's blood in the hopes of finding it, and as an ironic twist of fate, I found it when I was at my weakest. But _now…_ " His lips pulled into a hellish smile. "The world is mine to command."

"How exactly do you expect to _rule the world_ with Solomon's seal?" Siraj al Din asked, his voice having returned to him after the dizzying blow to his head. "If it had that sort of power, why didn't Solomon just do the same?"

Sharik chuckled, still admiring his new ring. He turned away from them and walked toward the circle drawn on the ground, standing just at the edge. "He had slightly different goals than I," he said. Extending his hand toward the circle, palm down, Sharik closed his eyes. In moments, the paint symbols began to glow with an eerie green luminescence. The strange light spread to Ghazi's triangle, and she pulled at her chains in vain.

"Solomon was a fool. He utilized the Seal's power for women and riches, the basest of mortal desires. What I desire is the extermination of the human race. And with this," Sharik swept his arms out at the magick circle painted on the floor, "I can achieve that."

Hafa's arm was quickly losing feeling, his fingers tingling. For the first time since entering the throne room, Hafa focused on the circle, blue eyes following the lines and symbols to try and decipher their meaning. It was a summoning circle, that much was clear, but he had never seen one like it before. The symbols and spells were complicated and confusing.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Sharik said, noticing Hafa's gaze. "A summoning circle, an authentic _Pentacle of Solomon_ , capable of summoning hundreds of djinn with a simple incantation. I'll have an army more fierce and powerful than any other."

" _That's_ your plan?" Hafa spat angrily. "Enslaving your own kind?"

"What does Princess Ghazi have to do with it?" Siraj al Din demanded. "Let her free!"

The Prince regarded the Princess with an air of apathy. "The Princess will serve a wondrous purpose. She is to be the blood sacrifice, further binding the djinn to me and my cause. She sits in the summoning triangle, pretty as can be, until I summon my army to tear her limb from limb." He looked back at Siraj al Din with a pitiable expression. "It will not be a pleasant sight."

Hafa felt sick. He knew that this was _exactly_ what would happen. The circle was meant to protect the castor from harm, and the triangle was meant to trap the djinns that manifest. If a line from either shape is even slightly out of place or a single word is misspelled, the djinn would have the freedom to kill and maim as it pleased. This was presumably what happened when Sharik had destroyed Rim and Ghazi's village. Anything inside the triangle was completely at the mercy of the djinn, and if Sharik was planning on summoning _hundreds_ of them…

"Rim!" Hafa yelled desperately, pulling against the guards that had him restrained, "Listen to me! Fight Sharik, take your body back! Come back to us or your sister is going to d-" A hand covered his mouth again, another arm around his neck, cutting off his air. Sharik held out his ring hand again, smirking.

"He can't hear you," he said in sing-song, stepping into the circle and planting himself in the middle ring of protection. The lines on the floor continued to glow, illuminating the room in a sickly green light, the torches flickering from a current of wind that seemed to come from the circle itself.

"It's time for you all to witness the end of your world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I'm reaching the very end of the story now, so everything's becoming a lot more difficult to write because of how hectic everything is becoming. I'm guesstimating that I only have 4 chapters left to go. I've never written anything this long before, so the thought of it all ending after months and months of writing and researching and planning is a little strange. uwu
> 
> But Reem is okay! Although I suppose this chapter left off no better than the last, really... orz
> 
> *** Anyone else remember that Makarim's nickname is 'Mako'? I think he mentioned it way back in chapter one. 12 chapters later someone is finally calling him by his nickname. orz


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siraj al Din’s gift comes in handy, Sharik is reborn, and Hafa hates to say goodbye.

A chain of incomprehensible words spewed from Sharik's mouth, immediately followed by a violent shift in the atmosphere. The circle was glowing fiercely, light seeping upwards into the air as if from the deepest, most hellish level of Jahannam itself. There was a ringing in everyone's ears as Sharik spoke the words, the Seal shining brightly from the Prince's finger.

Ghazi screamed. A rushing sound was filling the chamber. Dark shadows were growing tall on the walls, their sources unclear. Hafa felt sick. Everything was soon to be over, and they had lost.

Another light caught Hafa's eye. This light was shining brilliantly from Ghazi, more specifically, from around her neck: Something silver and round had slipped out of her clothes, attached to a rope. The light coming from it was blinding and flickering wildly, shaming the green glow emanating from the pentacle. Hafa looked away to rest his eyes and saw Sharik staring at it in apparent concern.

Before he could dwell on what was going on, it was almost as if the light from Ghazi's necklace had dissolved into itself only to burst out again with tremendous force. Like a stone thrown into calm water the light rippled outward, creating a shock wave of light and pressure that knocked everyone and everything backwards. Sharik flew from the circle, the guards holding the four men were blasted back against the far wall, and in every direction vases, tables and pots were launched across the room. Only Hafa, Makarim, Reem and Siraj al Din sat undisturbed.

The light ceased. _Everything_ ceased. For a moment, no one moved. The guards were either unconscious or dead, it was impossible to tell, and Rim lay ten feet from the pentacle on his back. Hafa and Makarim turned to each other, eyes wide, mouths open in the form of a silent question.

The chain around Ghazi's neck rattled, bringing everyone to their senses.

"Princess Ghazi!" Siraj al Din was on his feet, rushing through the darkened room with a spear in hand, immediately working to free her from her chains. Reem looked at Hafa with a concerned air, but Hafa waved him off.

"Go check on her," he said, and Reem nodded and stole after Siraj al Din.

Makarim stumbled forward, grabbing Hafa's wrist gently, looking over his wound with tears in his eyes.

"Haru… Are you okay? Of _course_ you're not, but I- Haru, what do we do? The knife…"

Gritting his teeth, Hafa grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it free with a grunt and a sharp intake of breath. He dropped it, kicking it away.

"I'm fine," he said, clamping a hand over the wound and looking around at the mess. His eyes fell on Ghazi, who was being helped to her feet by Siraj al Din, the chains lying broken in the triangle. Makarim was busying himself with ripping cloth from his thawb and tying it smartly around Hafa's upper arm to help quell the blood flow. When he was finished, both of the men approached the others.

"Are you okay?" Makarim asked Ghazi, his hand anchored on Hafa's good shoulder protectively.

Ghazi nodded feebly. "I think so. I don't really remember much, to be honest. I feel light-headed, but I don't think I'm hurt."

"What happened?" Hafa asked, looking around again.

"Did something go wrong with the incantation?" Reem wondered aloud.

Ghazi held the silver amulet that was hanging from her neck, smoothing her fingers over the rough surface. It was warm, as if it had been laying out in the sand on a searingly hot day. "I think it was _this_ ," she said, brow furrowed. "The ta'wiz you gave me, vizier… You told me it would protect me from harm, didn't you?"

Siraj al Din blinked in surprise. "I did, but… I had no idea it was capable of something like _that_."

"I realized what was going on, and I got so scared…" the Princess held the amulet tightly. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt. The more I thought that, the warmer the amulet got. I thought of my brother…" Ghazi's eyes widened. " _My brother_!"

The company's attention moved to the Prince. Hafa felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. There was no aura. There was no darkness framing his form, no trace of Sharik's influence. He looked more human than when Hafa had briefly spoken to him in his quarters before Sharik had taken him over. He was _Rim_.

Hafa was walking toward Rim as if he were being pulled, and Ghazi went to follow him, but at a safe distance. The others trailed close behind, all wary and trusting of Hafa's opinion.

"Please tell me he's alive." Ghazi was saying, her hands covering her face and her eyes squeezed closed.

Hafa knelt next to Rim, looking over his face. The Prince's lips were parted, eyes closed and long hair mussed over his forehead. He was breathing, and if one hadn't seen him get blown backwards moments before, one might have assumed he was only sleeping.

"He's alive," Hafa confirmed, and Ghazi let loose a laugh-sob and sank to her knees, crying. Reem stepped forward.

"Is he…?"

"Sharik is gone," Hafa said, sitting back and running a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe it. They had come so close to their world getting irreparably altered, and by some dumb stroke of luck they were saved, and even Rim had been spared. To his surprise, Hafa felt water stinging at his eyes, but he fought back the urge.

"He's gone?" Makarim repeated incredulously. "How?"

"Not sure," Hafa replied, moving to sit next to Rim. "The ta'wiz is supposed to deflect magical harm. It may have just turned the magick used against her outward. If it was silencing all who were a threat, then I suppose Sharik was the target, not Rim."

Carefully, he shook Rim, softly calling his name. On the fourth attempt, Rim grimaced and gasped as if he'd just broken the surface of the water just before running out of breath. Crimson eyes slowly and confusedly opened, and his head turned toward the figure hovering over him.

It was hard to focus in the darkness, but Hafa's blue eyes shone almost unnaturally in the low light, and Rim's mouth fell open.

"Hafa…?"

Hafa said nothing. It was a strange feeling, as if he were seeing Rim for the first time after all these years. The eyes looking back at him were weary and scarred, but they were _his_ eyes, free of confinement and affliction, the same eyes Hafa remembered.

"How are you feeling?" Hafa asked curiously. Rim almost looked like he could cry.

"How am I… What are you _doing_ here? What's going on? I can't remember anything… There was a party? Lots of people were there, but there was so much _whispering…_ When I woke up, Ghazi was…" Rim shot up, eyes panic-filled. " _Ghazi_! Is she okay?"

Ghazi was at Rim's side immediately, and he stared at her unbelievingly before pulling her to him in a fierce embrace. She circled her arms around his neck and cried.

Smiling, Makarim helped pull Hafa to his feet. "I guess it didn't go as planned, but it still worked out somehow," he said, relieved. Hafa watched as Rim pulled Ghazi away, holding her face in his hands, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears as she tried to compose herself. He couldn't help a small smile from pulling at his lips. He hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted to see this sight.

As he watched Rim fuss over Ghazi, his blood ran cold. Something was wrong. Makarim noticed Hafa's gaze and followed it, and in seconds he realized what was missing.

"You noticed it too." Hafa said in a low voice. Makarim nodded, looking around them at the floor.

"But where…?"

An overwhelming chill came over them all. Hafa felt it immediately, a snaking presence that was manifesting at the back of the room. There was a figure shifting and growing, blacker than the darkness around it, and the air surrounding it was shimmering and altered, as if the creature was folding in on another reality. Hafa felt his breath stop in his throat. This was worse than he ever could have imagined.

Siraj al Din stood in front of Rim and Ghazi, brandishing his spear, but Rim placed his hand on the weapon and lowered it, helping Ghazi to stand. Rim glanced at Hafa. They both knew what it was. They were the only two that had known it before.

"Weapons are useless." Rim said, holding Ghazi behind him.

Makarim's eyes were transfixed on the growing, morphing figure. "Haru, is that-"

"It wears the ring!" Reem exclaimed, putting himself in front of Hafa and Makarim. All eyes flew to the figure, and immediately it stopped moving.

What stepped out of the shadows was something that might spring into a nightmare. It was built like a human, with two legs and arms, a torso, neck and head, but it was charred black, its outline quivering at the edges as if it was having trouble holding together. It's eyes were narrow and almost comically long, stretching to the sides of its head, and its mouth was worn in a large smile, faux sharp teeth set like that of a sharks. It's fingers were long and talon-like, and on the middle finger of the left hand, was the Seal of Solomon.

Sharik was looking at himself, holding his hands out unbelievingly. He moved unnaturally, in a fluid manner that sometimes seemed as if he was stepping between the blinks of ones eye. No one spoke, all of them fixed on the creature, all of them uncertain as to what they should do next.

The silence was broken by laughter. Low and rumbling but so similar to Rim's voice, the creature laughed, admiring its ring.

"Would you look at me!" came the voice, circling them as if he were everywhere. "You removed me from my host, and the ring rebuilt me. _Amazing_."

Rim looked noticeably ill. Makarim and Reem were stealing fleeting glances at Hafa, silently asking for a plan. Hafa had none. They were standing before an ifrit that held Solomon's ring and immeasurable power. The only option they had was hardly better than hanging around to be voluntarily slaughtered.

Sharik's eyes turned on Hafa, looking past all the others. "Hafa! How much _smaller_ you look now. To think that I was also tied down to a human vessel just moments ago… It's hard to remember, really. The time spent as a horrid mortal has been swept away, as if by a tide!"

"We need to go," Hafa said quietly but urgently, grabbing Makarim's arm and glaring down the others with purpose. " _Now_."

"Are none of you staying?" Sharik asked, his form continuing to ripple and shift. He never remained the same height or width for more than a few seconds at a time, and now he was taller than ever, shoulders slouched forward, mouth larger and teeth glistening. "Whether you stay or go, the outcome will be the same. You may as well witness my army rise."

The group was sprinting to the door, bypassing the guards that were still as stone and crumpled against the walls. Siraj al Din seemed hesitant as Makarim threw open the doors.

"We can't leave him to use the pentacle, can we?"

"We don't have a choice," Hafa said, just as Rim grabbed the vizier by the collar and pulled him out into the hall. "Djinn are impervious to mortal weapons. Right now Sharik is invincible, _and_ he's got the ring."

This seemed to be enough to convince the vizier. Together, the six of them tumbled into the hall and slammed the door closed.

.

.

.

It had been like a tremor that shook Aini to the core. A wave of negativity the likes of which he'd never experienced in the palace overtook him as he was securing the door to the servant's quarters, and he stared down the hall to his left as if he could _see_ the darkness manifesting at the other end. Najiya caught his gaze, finishing up with the other entrance.

"What's wrong?"

Aini bit his tongue between his molars. "I don't know."

"Something bad?"

"Maybe."

Far be it for Najiya to place any doubt in the mystical after everything he'd seen and been through. "Now that the twins are safe, we should go check on everyone. If they're in trouble, we should help them."

 _If_ they could help. Aini wasn't confident that they could do anything at all, but he knew that sitting idly by and waiting for a miracle wasn't going to help, either. He was fairly sure that Najiya knew this just as well as he did, which put him at ease. He nodded, and the two of them hurried down the hall, following Aini's lead.

It wasn't long before they heard the frantic clacking of shoes echoing from the direction of the throne room, and as they turned a corner Aini and Najiya were running headlong into the very group of people they'd been looking for. Najiya fell into Reem, who caught him and managed to prevent both of them from flailing to the ground, and Aini stopped just short of careening into Hafa, who nimbly stepped out of the way just in time.

"You're all okay!" Najiya exclaimed, smiling in relief. "What happened?"

"Ghazi, thank the Gods," Aini clasped the Princesses hands, pressing them to his forehead. "I was so worried, I thought for _certain-_ "

The initial relief Aini felt drained away when he saw the Prince standing next to her, just as winded as the rest of them, but his expression uniquely abashed. Aini couldn't prevent his mouth from dropping open, or his hands from slipping out of Ghazi's and moving to gently touch Rim's face. The aura was gone. Only a residual scar remained, proof of his affliction, but under the skin it was _Rim_ , the Rim that Aini had always known.

"It's gone," Aini breathed, voice catching in his throat.

Rim allowed Aini to touch him without moving an inch although he badly wanted to touch back. He felt as if he hadn't had human contact in years. Seeing Aini before him now brought forth all of the regrets and guilt he'd harbored in him for so long, and he felt almost like he didn't deserve to be looked at.

"How?" Aini asked, a bit louder, looking over the company. Siraj al Din was leaning against a wall regaining his breath, and Makarim was taking deep gulps of air. Hafa seemed less winded than the rest, though his shoulder was still bleeding profusely.

"It's a long story that we don't have time for right now," Hafa said.

"Where are the twins?" Came Makarim's first question, hands still resting on his knees.

"Safe, safe, don't worry," Najiya cooed. "They're in the servants quarters, with the rest of the servants who didn't feel safe leaving. And Miss Maha is still with them." He turned to Reem, pulling on his uniform gently. "What's going on? Where's the Sharik guy? What about the ring?"

A brief explanation was all that was needed to drain the color from both Najiya and Aini's faces. Rim was staring hard at the ground when Hafa finished, and Najiya was hopping up and down on the heels of his feet in anxiety.

"If Sharik has the ring _and_ he has his body back, where does that leave us?" the blonde asked seriously.

"Fucked," Rim said stoically.

Hafa frowned, despite agreeing with the sentiment. "Rim-"

"No, I mean it," Rim said. "I'm not being pessimistic. That thing has been _living_ off of me for years, like an extra limb. Even with him gone, I can hear every thought and desire he ever whispered. If the Seal of Solomon can do _half_ of the things the legends say it can, he's going to destroy everything. Unless we can get that ring back, he's unstoppable. None of us can fight him."

Rim's words led to a hushed discussion. Thoughts and ideas were flying around, equal in desperation and futility, as all of them tried to come up with some kind of plan of attack. Hafa tuned them out. His gaze was fixed on his hand, which he was losing feeling in, concentrating on the subtle movements of his muscles and tendons and bone, all working together to keep his mortal shell alive. He had grown to enjoy living. He liked this hand, this hand reminded him of Makarim somehow, of the time he'd spent here.

Makarim's voice was low and very close to Hafa, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Haru, are you okay?"

Hafa's chest tightened. His reply was loud and directed to everyone.

"I can get the ring back."

All discussion stopped and everyone was staring. There was a mutual silence before Najiya sputtered something.

"H-Haru, how…?"

Hafa was staring at Rim now, his eyes burning intensely. "Rim, do you think you can undo the curse?"

The question seemed to take Rim off-guard, and he nearly flushed in shame. "Undo…? I'm not sure, but… I think so. If anyone could do it, I suppose it would be me, right?" His voice was humorless, regretful, and although any other day Hafa would have appreciated it, he knew they were short on time.

"The only option I can see is for you to lead me to that room with the cursed hookah. If you reunite me with my essence, I can get back the ring on the other plane."

Ghazi was noticeably confused, but Aini placed a hand on her shoulder, a promise to explain everything when there was time to spare.

Makarim grabbed Hafa's hand tightly in his. "Haru, think about this. The Seal of Solomon _controls djinn_. If you try and attack Sharik in djinn form, he could subdue you just as easily as if you were mortal, right?"

"It isn't exactly a fool-proof plan, but it's all I can think of. The ring is powerful but Sharik is still weak. I don't know a great deal about possession, but I know that a djinn must be vulnerable on the other plane - in our world - after an ordeal like that. If I can catch him unaware-"

"You'll be weakened too!" Reem put in hotly. "We have no _idea_ what kind of effects you could experience after such an unusual transformation! Even if you _are_ able to achieve a djinn body once again, you'll be at a massive disadvantage!"

Hafa's eyes flashed in the officers direction. " _We don't have a choice_!" He snapped, louder than he intended. The company was sufficiently silenced, and Hafa felt a crushing guilt overtake him. Gods help him, he was afraid. He was terrified. It was almost akin to what he'd felt in the throne room, or any time he'd seen Makarim in danger, but so much more. For the first time in his existence, he was afraid of his own demise. He was mourning the end of his human self.

He took a breath, and stared at the ground. "It's the only option we have. I'm the only one of us that can even _attempt_ to stop this. Once he summons his army, which is any second now, the end will be imminent." He felt something click within him. He couldn't be sure, but was this affection? Regret? It was always a marvel to him how easily these human emotions could get intertwined and confused.

"I have people I want to protect." Hafa said. He was met with looks of surprise and fondness, respectively, but no one quite knew what to say. Makarim's lips were parted in a silent gasp, and Hafa met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread to his face and neck as he let his eyes take in the man's features. The strong brow that was dipped in worry, sun-beaten skin and shimmering emerald eyes that seemed impossibly beautiful for a mortal creature, the soft lips that Hafa had grown to love kissing. He wanted to memorize all of this, he wanted to keep it all and never let it go.

"Haru, maybe-"

A violent quake knocked everyone off of their feet. The entire palace felt as if it had been picked up and shaken by a titan's hands, stone cracking above them and along the walls in thin tendrils from the intensity. The sounds echoing through the palace were inhuman and terrifying, like a stampede of the dead, screaming and moaning and roaring with all the rage and pain of death personified.

The shaking lasted for only seconds but it felt like hours. When finally it came to an end, everyone shakily rose to their feet.

"Is everyone alright?" Reem coughed as the dust settled, holding Najiya close.

Siraj al Din looked positively livid. "What in the _name of the Gods_ -"

"Sharik called his army," Hafa said seriously, turning to Rim. "We need to go, _now_. You know the way to that room, don't you?"

Rim nodded. "It's been a long time since I've been down there, but I think I know the way."

"I'm accompanying you," Reem said suddenly. "In the unlikely event that you may get lost, Prince Rim, I can help navigate. I've been there as well."

"Me too, then!" Najiya exclaimed, raising his arm to volunteer himself.

"This isn't an outing," Hafa pointed out with a frown.

Makarim smiled at Hafa, an easy smile that was so incredibly deceiving of their situation. "Well, where you go, I go. No reason to change it up now."

"Brother…" Ghazi was pulling on Rim's sleeve, tears in her eyes. "I just got you back, and you're leaving again…"

Rim pulled Ghazi into a one-armed hug, and shot Siraj al Din a glance over the top of her head. "Vizier."

"Yes, my Prince."

"This might be my last order to you, or _anyone_ , so I want you to take it to heart. I want you to escort Ghazi and Aini somewhere safe, and if things get out of control, I want you to protect them with your life."

Both Ghazi and Aini paled at the request. Aini stepped forward. "Rim, no, if you're going then _I'm_ going!"

Before Aini could react, Rim was yanking him close, holding his face in his hands, and he was kissing his forehead, long and lingering. Aini's eyes were cast downward, water gathering at his lashes. "Please… _Don't do this_ …"

Siraj al Din had grasped both Ghazi and Aini by the arm and was pulling them. Both of them looked back at Rim as they were led away, bitter but understanding. There was nothing either of them could do. They were all more than likely going to die today. If they could do anything for Rim, it would be to honor his last wish, no matter how much they hated to.

When the three of them were out of sight, Hafa regarded Makarim, Rim, Reem and Najiya.

"Let's go."

.

.

.

It sounded as if there was movement everywhere, along the walls, the ceiling, under their feet, and if Hafa could have spoken to the others while they ran, he would have explained that the two worlds - the mortal realm and the other plane - were pressing against each other so violently that the two worlds were sampling the same space. He had never heard of so many djinn being summoned at once, but it did not surprise him that such a phenomenon would occur because of it. It seemed almost silly to think that there _wouldn't_ be some sort of atmospheric shock.

They rounded a corner, Rim and Reem leading. "We're close," he huffed, casting a look around them at the warbling space surrounding them. "This… Doesn't look right."

Hafa said nothing. Their destination was frighteningly uncertain. He wasn't sure if Rim could reverse the curse, and he was doubtful that he could do anything helpful even if he could. Reem had been right. He had no idea what it would be like, being ripped out of his mortal shell to once again live as a djinn. A number of things were likely to go wrong, but none scared him worse than the thought of forgetting. If he had steadily been forgetting his life as a djinn, would the reverse occur also?

"That's it! Over there!" Najiya chimed, pointing.

The passageway opened up into a high-ceilinged hall lined with stone pillars that had thankfully withstood the massive quake. A thick crack in the wall descending from the ceiling had destroyed the hidden panel to the staircase, leaving half of the stone door lying on the ground in pieces, the rest of it scattered on the stairs.

It would have been a clear shot to the door if it weren't for the shadowy masses that were leaking from the walls like blobular tree sap. It was nearly impossible to tell how many figures had now emerged before them, all of them taking on various forms, but their appearance was so sudden that the company stopped just short of touching them. Najiya halted so abruptly that he tripped and fell forward, staring at the closest djinn on hands and knees, his eyes wide.

The forms of the creatures were becoming less shadowed and more defined. Some of them chose animal forms, all of them deadly, from lions to prehistoric beasts that none of the men had ever seen before. Others chose forms that were sourceless and monstrous, gaping mouths, long talons, lolling tongues. Hafa stepped in front of the speechless men, feeling distinctly as if their luck had long run out.

"I am one of you!" Hafa stated loudly, positive that this would mean little to the hoard of djinn who had undoubtedly been sent by Sharik on strict orders.

Scattered, soft laughter was his reply. One of the djinn standing just in front of Najiya - a horned creature who stood on two backwards hoofed legs - crossed its arms, regarding Hafa with what looked like discern. He took a deep whiff from his long, curved nose.

"I can smell djinn on you. It clings to you like smoke." the monster observed.

"Sharik, the false Prince, cursed me." Hafa explained, hopeful that perhaps there were some intelligent djinn mixed in with the rest of the rif raf. Perhaps, if he chose his words carefully, he could find a common enemy with them. "And now he's enslaved you all."

The horned monster shifted his position. He was sniffing Najiya now, deeply, and Najiya had his eyes shut, his body quaking in terror. Reem's hand was hovering over the sword that was tied at his waist, but Rim had a firm grip on his shoulder in warning.

"Are there more of you? Or are the rest human?" the creature asked after having examined Najiya.

"It's just me."

"I've never seen a curse like that before," the creature mused. Another djinn, a anthropomorphic tiger with horned wings, nudged the monster with force.

"What are we wasting time talking for? We were told to kill them. We should get on with it."

The horned monster pushed back, knocking the tiger into another djinn, who hissed furiously. "He didn't put a _time limit_ on it, did he? Gods almighty, is this your first master? Look at them! They're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Another djinn from behind a few others piped up. "He told us to report back _promptly_ , you great twat!"

"Bloody hell, I'm working with amateurs. Aren't any of you curious about a curse that can turn _djinn_ into _mortals_? Because I'm more than a little interested." the monster replied with a groan.

Hafa held out his arms. "Hold it. Aren't any of you concerned about your predicament? The Seal of Solomon can potentially keep all of you enslaved for thousands of years. I know you can't ignore orders, but if you could _postpone_ killing us, I may be able t-"

The horned djinn held up a paw. "It's our understanding that our new master is keen on wiping out humankind. Once he's done that, he intends to set us all free. There aren't any hard feelings here, you know, but his plan doesn't affect me in the least, nor the rest of us. If you were once a djinn, I think you'd feel the same. Alas, perhaps you can't think that way, as you currently are."

From behind Hafa, Makarim stepped forward, his eyes flashing. "You really expect him to hold true to his promises? What's to stop him from keeping you all enslaved forever?"

The monster regarded Makarim for a long moment, scowling. In moments he had vanished and appeared beside Makarim, sniffing him intently as he'd done Najiya. Hafa's breath caught in his throat.

"Ahh, you're the one who shares Solomon's blood?" the djinn said, and there was murmuring among the hoard. Just as quickly as he'd appeared, the djinn materialized in his former position, his long tail swinging languidly. "Why would he lie? What need would a djinn have for other djinn slaves in a world without humans?"

"He's sadistic," Rim interjected, pointed teeth gritted together. "He wouldn't _need_ a reason. Power is the only reason he would need."

The horned monster tilted its head. "I'm afraid that's neither here nor there. At the moment, we're bound to follow the one who bears the ring, and unfortunately for you all, our orders are clear and without much room for creative freedom."

Hafa was desperate to hold to a shred of hope. "Wouldn't it be worth it to see a curse like this become undone? If you could _just_ let us get down those stairs-"

"Why are we lettin' them _talk_?" exclaimed an impatient djinn from somewhere to the left. "Kill them already and let's move on!"

"I'm in no right mood to be punished so soon after summoning," another said in a raspy voice. "We have a lot of work to do, the master was _strict_ on that point!"

The other djinn were shouting at each other, the majority keen on eliminating the group, but many still siding with the horned monster and his curiosity. The shouting turned into shoving and punching, and amidst the chaos, Hafa could see their opportunity. Reem pulled Najiya to his feet and the group carefully but swiftly navigated through the crowd of quarrelling djinn, making their way toward the door.

A strong paw came down on Hafa's shoulder, halting the group, and Hafa looked to see the horned monster looking down at him with a frown.

"I'm only giving you a headstart. Once you touch those steps, they'll be upon you."

It was more than fair, and Hafa knew that. Without a word they continued, mindful of being rammed into or stepped on by the angry entities.

A massive, scaled arm drew back to line up a punch. Rim was directly in its path, and was struck so hard he toppled forward and hit the wall, very nearly being sent straight down the stairs from the impact. The others hurried to him, finding him dazed but otherwise unharmed, when they heard a yell that rose above all the others, effectively silencing the verbal battle.

"For _fuck's sake_! They're over there, they're trying to escape!"

"Let's just make this quick, shall we?"

The smothering feeling of predatory figures closing in on them was overwhelming, and so Hafa wasted no time. He helped pull Rim to his feet, and throwing caution to the wind, he shoved all four of the men down the steps. A blast of some kind from just behind them sent Hafa promptly down the stairs after them.

The fall was half rolling, half flying. The attack from behind was so violent and powerful that it felt as if they were trapped in a stone box, being shaken around. It was almost as bad as the first quake, and although the men were surrounded by darkness, they could hear the cracking of stone and the falling chunks of debris that were crashing down the stairs along with them.

.

.

.

"What was that?" Ghazi asked fearfully, Makarim's twin siblings clinging to her, an arm around each one. When she received no answer, she bit her lip. "I mean, what do you think that could have been? It sounded like an explosion of some kind, didn't it?"

Aini was pacing by the door, which was being guarded by Siraj al Din.

"It could have been anything," Aini said, biting at his thumbnail. He glanced at the vizier pleadingly. "Siraj al Din, can't we-"

"I intend to follow the Prince's orders to the fullest," the vizier stated regretfully. "I'm keeping you both here until the coast is clear or we need to escape. Those are the only two options available to me."

Holding the twins a little closer, Ghazi fought back tears. "I understand that you're doing your duty, but they might need help!"

The end of the vizier's spear hit the ground with a metallic ring. The sound was so abrupt and so demanding that the entire room fell silent, and even the field mouse on Ru'a's shoulder ceased grooming its whiskers.

"This isn't merely my duty." Siraj al Din said, gripping his weapon tightly, his eyes focused on the ground. "I honestly believe this to be the best course of action. I don't think that any of us would be of any help to them, no matter how much we'd like to be." His eyes trailed to Aini, and he held his gaze unwaveringly. "You've noticed it too, haven't you?"

Aini said nothing. His hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into his palms.

"Noticed what?" Ghazi asked, watching the silent exchange between her brother's concubine and vizier.

"Those five are connected somehow. I feel that a thread of fate has bound them together, and I don't believe it's the first time they've met."

"What do you mean, 'first time'?" the Princess continued to prod.

Siraj al Din sighed. "Forgive my presumptuousness, and for speaking of something so taboo, but considering what's going on outside I think we can all be a bit more open-minded. I believe it's a strong possibility that those five have met in previous lives, and will meet again in the future. Their fates seem interconnected somehow. I first noticed it the night of the party. The Prince and Haru, Agha Reem and Najiya all having come together seemed like something ordained by fate. Makarim's presence was the same."

The princess shook her head, mouth somewhat agape. "Such a thing… Could something like that even be possible?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm not inclined to ignore something so profound." the vizier answered.

The twins were listening avidly. "When Haru first came to big brother's house, he fit in immediately," Rani offered feebly. "He and big brother seemed like they'd known each other forever."

"And Najiya and Reem fought really hard for us when they didn't have to. They were always sticking together and protecting each other. Is that the kind of connection you're talking about?" Ru'a asked.

Siraj al Din smiled at the children warmly. "Yes, something like that."

Aini's knuckles had long since turned white as bone. Finally he relaxed, sinking to his knees. Silver hair hid his face but not the tears that were falling to the floor with gentle taps. "If they're bound together by fate, then are we eternally fated to be useless to them?" he asked weakly, his shoulders shaking.

The vizier looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. If you really want to put _all_ of your faith in fate, then I'd say not. I think that everyone has a significant role to play. But I believe that right now, staying out of their way is the best thing we can do for them."

.

.

.

Najiya's groans pulled Hafa from his sleep, and with a start he rolled over and sat up, every inch of him buzzing with pain. It took him several moments to assess their situation, but finally he realized what had happened and was looking around wildly for the others.

"Is everyone alright? Najiya, are you okay?" Makarim's voice was saying from somewhere in front of him. His eyes were still adjusting to the low light which appeared to be emanating solely from the center of the chilly chamber, obscured by a thick layer of dust that hadn't yet settled. It looked like a flame until Hafa realized that it was glowing a fierce blue color.

Hafa managed to stand up, his eyes falling on Najiya, who was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by both Reem and Makarim. He was holding his arm, which was twisted in a very unnatural way. His voice was coming out in broken moans and sharp intakes of breath.

"His arm is broken," Reem was saying in a near panic. "Shit, your _arm-_ "

"I'm fine," Najiya breathed, struggling to stand. Reem gently helped him, and Najiya leaned against him, yelping as his shoulder moved automatically and jostled his arm.

"You're _not_ fine!" Reem insisted. He was missing his eye glasses, most likely lost in the tumble.

"I'm not dead, so that's something," Najiya offered.

Makarim was looking around, and his eyes finally fell on Hafa. His expression melted in relief. "Oh thank the Gods… Where is Rim?"

"Here," came the Prince's gruff reply as he rose from his position at the bottom of the stairs. Or at least, where the stairs used to be. What was left of the stairs was a broken mess of stone and debris, and it looked as if the entire stairwell had caved in. Rim glanced at the large amount of rock and rubble that was blocking their exit. He murmured a curse, rubbing his shoulder and limping forward. "I don't think a shit-ton of rocks will stop them from getting to us, but it might postpone them for a while."

Inwardly thankful that they were all alive, Hafa turned to Najiya. "Is it bearable? Can you hold on a little longer?"

Najiya nodded stiffly. "Yeah, I can. But more importantly, how are we supposed to get out? Aren't we kind of… nng… trapped like rats down here?"

Hafa's eyes were fixed on the blue flames in the center of the room. On a stone pedestal was a hookah, a very familiar item, and the sight of it caused the pit of Hafa's stomach to squirm uneasily. The flames surrounding the old pipe were rippling almost as if they weren't flames at all, but water, bubbling and frothing and close to bursting. Rim was reaching a hand toward the pipe, timidly.

"Haru, is that…?" Makarim trailed off, his voice deflating. Hafa only nodded, watching as Rim easily broke through the unseen barrier and grasped the hookah tightly in both hands. He pulled it free of the pedestal.

"Once I'm in my djinn form, I'll get you all out of here and somewhere safe." Hafa said firmly. Reem frowned.

"And what are we supposed to do after that? What if you need help, or what if you fail to get the ring back from Sharik?"

When _I fail, not if._ Hafa thought unhelpfully, but he fought to push those counter-productive thoughts far away. He knew the chances of him succeeding were slim, but reminding himself wasn't useful in the slightest.

"If I fail, then there's nothing left to be done. You can't fight him. All you can do is get as far away as you can and try to live."

"You're expecting us to _abandon_ you?" Makarim demanded, grabbing tightly to Hafa's shoulder, which had already mostly healed itself. "I won't do that!"

"You won't have a choice," Hafa answered calmly. "Without the ring, there's nothing you can do. And someone has to look after the twins."

Makarim's face fell. He released his hold on Hafa's shoulder. "Why does it have to be like this?" he asked softly, voice trembling. "Why does there have to be someone making this kind of sacrifice? Why does it have to be _you…_?"

There was something he wanted to say, it was perched at the tip of his tongue, but Hafa couldn't bring himself to say it. He hated the word and all of the connotations it brought with it. It was a human word, a concept that was once uninteresting and pointless to him, but now he understood it well.

Hafa slid his hands to the back of Makarim's head and pulled him down to meet his forehead. Makarim's hair smelled like sweat and charred rock, and he allowed his eyes to fall closed for just an instant as he rested his brow against his lover's, listening to Makarim breathe. He didn't have an answer for him, and still the word wouldn't come.

They broke apart and Hafa turned to approach Rim, who was standing behind the pedestal, eyes fixed on the pipe in his hands, his expression sullen. The blue glow became more erratic the closer Hafa came, trembling and bubbling as if it were excited to see him. Perhaps it was, in some way, but Hafa did not share the sentiment. Regardless, his mind was made up. There was little other choice, especially now.

Rim glanced at Hafa, eyes tired and filled with regret. "Hafa… Listen, about everything that's happened, I just-"

"Rim." Hafa cut him off sharply but gently, "I can never repent for what happened to your village, and your family. I don't blame you for anything."

The Prince frowned bitterly and shook his head. "That didn't give me any right to do what I did. I was stupid and selfish-"

"You had _every reason_ to do what you did-"

"I'm trying to apologize to you, you fucking idiot! Shut up for a second!" Rim demanded hotly, and Hafa shut his mouth and watched him with wide eyes. Rim looked away sheepishly. "I heard what Sharik said to you, the night you came to my room. It took a while to remember everything and figure out what was real and what wasn't, but I know now. I know that Sharik destroyed my village. I fell for all of his crap, and in the end, I let him in, and I let him corrupt me, because it was _easier_ that way. It was so much easier not to feel." He fell silent, as if he'd only just discovered this a moment before saying it. He cleared his throat. "Before you do this, I want you to know that you saved us, back then. You saved _me_. You were my best friend. I'm sorry for everything that happened."

Hafa wasn't sure what to say. He had been a victim of guilt for so long, he hardly realized that Rim could forgive him for what he'd allowed to happen all those years ago. He felt overcome with so many things at once that he merely stared at Rim as if expecting the words to manifest on their own. When they didn't, Rim rolled his eyes.

"Oy, come on then. Let's do this, shall we? I think if you touch it, that might do the trick."

Against his better judgement, Hafa turned to regard the others. They were all watching on in nervous apprehension, sad but hopeful. The word was there again, stillborn at the edge of his mind. His eyes locked with Makarim's for what seemed like forever, but he forced himself to look away and without another thought he grabbed the hookah.

The flames rose up as if they had been splashed with oil, engulfing Hafa completely. It was a peculiar sensation, almost like being underwater, surrounded by warmth and at the same time suffocating. His body felt light, so light that he was sure he was floating, and his vision was going dark. He was leaving. It was uncertain where he was going, but he knew that much at least. He didn't want to leave, but he needed to.

He never said the word out loud, but he was thinking it as he felt his physical body slump to the floor.

 _Goodbye_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you guys totes forgot about the amulet Siraj al Din gave Ghazi in chapter 3 eh? EHH?? BOOM.
> 
>  **Jahannam:** Islamic concept of Hell
> 
>  **Reincarnation:** Siraj al Din refers to the topic of past lives as 'taboo' because reincarnation is not believed or accepted in Islamic culture. When you die you are to be judged by your actions and your faith, and then you hang out in the afterlife until their day of judgment. :p (That was way simplified but yeah)
> 
> TWO CHAPTERS LEFT. /screaming internally
> 
> I really can't thank you all enough for sticking with me this far. It means the world to me that there are people out there reading this as I update it, leaving great comments and ultimately you guys just give me life.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing remains the same. Fate continues to spin.

He felt rearranged.

He wanted to stay in the water. Things made sense in the water. He was safe and comfortable. It was warm, almost to a fault. Someone or something was incessantly calling his name, his _true_ name, and the voice was denting his soul with every syllable. It was difficult to tune it out, but so far, the water had helped him to forget his troubles.

Hafa didn't remember when or how he had ended up in the water. It felt like an eternity since he'd been one with the water like this, but why was he so damaged? He wanted to enjoy it to the fullest, but instead he was hiding within it, curling up like a dog licking its wounds. His mind was a haze. He didn't feel confident that he knew himself any longer. He was tired and confused, his memory was creaky and covered in dust, and he distinctly felt like there was something he needed to do.

He could remember individual humans, but it was a mystery as to why he would have committed them to memory. Had he been watching them? Interacting with them? Surely not. Why would he? He had done well to steer clear of humans for so long, it seemed strange that these memories were manifesting. It seemed like he had watched them befriend someone, get close to someone, and those memories were so strong he nearly felt like they had happened to him and not someone else.

Furthermore, he wasn't sure where he was. The water was strangely familiar, but it was turbulent with unease, not helping him to shake the growing dread he was harboring. He wished he could squash the painful memories that were aggressively shoving their way into his consciousness. He wished the water would calm his tattered soul, like it always used to.

He wished he could remember what he needed to do.

.

.

.

The dust had long since settled. After the blue flames had engulfed Hafa's body they had dissipated just as quickly, throwing the room into complete darkness. The crisis had thankfully been averted by Najiya, who had a number of matches in his pocket, and Rim had stumbled over a downed wall torch that they were able to light easily.

No one thought to keep track of the time passed as they sat among the rubble. Najiya and Reem were sitting nearest the stairs, Najiya curled against Reem with his head resting on the officer's shoulder. Reem had tasked himself with keeping Najiya awake. The blonde had been slipping in and out of consciousness, and the tumble down the stairs combined with Najiya's broken arm had Reem several shades of worried. It was impossible for him to see much of anything clearly without his eye glasses and in near-darkness, so he spoke with Najiya softly, keeping him engaged in quiet conversation.

Makarim and Rim, wanting to give the two as much space as possible were on the other side of the room opposite the pillar, their backs against the wall, Hafa's unresponsive body clutched in Makarim's arms.

Rim had been quiet, watching the two across the room, distracting himself from his worry. He glanced sidelong at Makarim, and then at Hafa's body.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you still…" Rim grimaced apologetically, " _worrying_ about the body? It isn't likely that he'll…"

Makarim offered an understanding smile. "Don't worry… I'm not in denial or anything like that." he said, and Rim dropped his gaze. "His body is still breathing, just barely. And there's still a heartbeat. I won't give up on it unless I know for sure that Haru doesn't need it anymore." Rim looked back at Makarim questioningly, and Makarim chuckled. "Maybe I'm a bit too attached, after all. But there might still be a chance that he's still connected somehow." He nodded to the item resting in Rim's lap. "You haven't given up either, right? Is that why you're hanging onto that?"

The brass hookah was utterly unimpressive without its otherworldly glow. It was dented and dull, just like every other ordinary pipe. It was difficult to believe that not too long ago it had held such a wondrous power.  
"It's still got a pretty powerful enchantment on it," Rim pointed out, grabbing up the pipe and inspecting it closely. "I doubt it would be able to help us, but it seems a shame to just leave it."

"I suppose that's true."

Although he felt like there may have been more to it than that, Makarim let the subject drop. Across the room, he saw Reem kiss the top of Najiya's head, speaking words against the dancer's blonde hair that he couldn't hear. Najiya laughed, albeit weakly. Makarim's eyes trailed to his broken arm, which was resting in a makeshift sling fashioned out of torn strips of Reem's stolen Holy Guard garb.

"What's up?" Rim asked softly, and Makarim realized he had been frowning while watching Najiya.

"I'm worried," Makarim admitted with a sigh. "It's been a while, and Haru hasn't come back yet. I'm afraid something happened to him. Najiya is really hurt, and the longer we're trapped down here the longer it's going to take us to get him to a healer."

Rim shifted uncomfortably. "You know, it's possible that Hafa isn't coming back," he said gently. "Who knows what his mindset is like, after everything that's happened. Djinn don't think like humans. I know, I've had one in my head."

Makarim shook his head resolutely. "He's definitely coming back. He wouldn't leave us here."

"I'm not trying to say that he would do it on _purpose_." Rim amended guiltily. "I'm just saying that he might _forget_ about us. Think about it like this: when he was human, he had to think and function using his human brain, right? Djinn aren't confined to physical laws like that. They work completely differently than we do. It's possible that when he left this body," he glanced at the Hafa in Makarim's arms, "all of his mortal memories stayed behind. If that's the case, we might need to start thinking up another plan."

To his surprise, Makarim smiled at him. It was a warm smile that he thought he'd seen before, filled with an almost baseless hope, a fondness that made Rim feel inexplicably guilty for doubting anything.

"I was thinking the same thing myself," Makarim replied, swiping some dark hair away from Hafa's eyes. "I think Haru was afraid of that, too. But I'm sure he won't forget about us. I have faith that he's still connected to us somehow."

Rim fell silent. He wished he could share Makarim's faith, even if just for a moment. It wasn't that he distrusted Hafa. After everything that had happened, he almost felt like redemption was a far cry away from where he was now, and that things were bound to go wrong. He felt responsible for everything, and frustrated at his powerlessness. Regardless, it seemed that Makarim's blind faith was the best option for them now. Even if they _could_ come up with another plan, there was no way they could get out of this room without a bit of magic. Several tons of rock blocked the only exit, and the air in the room was growing thinner by the minute. They would suffocate long before they would all starve. Their fate was placed on Hafa now, and Makarim had accepted that from the start. Rim didn't think it was fair, but it was unavoidable.

"You really love him, don't you?" The words tumbled out of Rim before he could stop himself. He coughed into his hand as if trying to draw the words back into his mouth. "Sorry, uhh…"

"I guess I do," Makarim answered easily with a smile. Rim coughed again.

"How come you all call him 'Haru'?"

Makarim's eyes rolled upward in thought. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. It just sort of stuck."

"Ah."

Another several minutes moved on in silence, broken only by the hushed talking of Reem and Najiya on the other end of the room.

Makarim was deep in thought when he realized he could feel eyes staring through him. He turned to find Rim staring at him intently. His knees were pulled up, his arms stretched out and resting on them. Makarim paled.

"Wha- What? Why are you staring at me?" he asked, flustered.

Rim cocked his head only slightly. "I feel like I've met you before. Before all this, I mean."

"Really?" Makarim looked down, considering it. "You're very familiar to me as well. We may have run into each other in the city at some point, do you think?"

"Maybe," Rim answered, but he distinctly felt like that wasn't right.

"Everyone, listen!" Reem was suddenly calling out to them, helping Najiya to stand up, "Can you hear that?"

Makarim and Rim were on their feet immediately, Makarim still clutching Hafa's body. There was definitely something making noise, but the source was undeterminable. It seemed it was coming from the far wall, from _inside_ the wall, like a thousand rats scratching on the other side of the stone.

Rim stepped in front of Makarim warily. "Hafa?" he called.

Familiar figures filled the chamber, so tightly clustered together that many of them vanished from sight or shrank themselves down in order to fit comfortably.

"You were bloody difficult to find," said one of the djinn, the horned, hoofed humanoid monster. He shook his head regretfully. "You understand that it isn't anything personal, you know, but we've dilly-dallied long enough. We were ordered to kill you, so hurry up with any final prayers you might want to offer."

.

.

.

The Other World was shivering. Every inch of the atmosphere was tainted with something malevolent. For Hafa, it was especially disconcerting, because all he wanted was to be left alone to rest. His essence was splayed open, scattered, lacking the energy or coordination to stay together as one being. Hafa's consciousness was drifting in and out of reality, reaching for sleep but unable to find peace. He had never felt so strange or so unlike himself.

The space around him was overlapping a small oasis of water in some man-made room. He wasn't sure why exactly he was here, but he felt safe. With his essence as damaged as it was, he doubted he could go somewhere else even if he wanted to. He just wanted to sleep for a few years to heal himself. If he could exist in the oasis for a while, he was sure all of his wounds would be easily healed.

As if someone had dropped poison into the water, Hafa felt a presence nearby. It was a being that he recognized although he knew not from where or when, but the familiarity was not a pleasant one. Hafa collected himself as best as he could. He saw no immediate reason as to why he should be feeling defensive, but regardless, it was how he felt. He wasn't in the habit of questioning his intuition.

"How are you feeling, Hafa'ma?" inquired a voice. Hafa withdrew further into himself.

"Go away."

"That's not very polite," tutted the voice, manifesting now in Hafa's line of sight. It was an ifrit, its aura enormous and overburdened with power. Hafa didn't feel particularly threatened, but he felt plenty annoyed. "I came to see for myself. It seems you managed to do it, after all. Such a rare sort of transformation, don't you think?" the ifrit continued, coming nearer to Hafa. The form it chose was a humanoid shark creature, the head and fins of a great white shark attached to the body and legs of a nightmarish human. Its eyes were blazing red in color, not unlike someone elses he'd met somewhere before.

Hafa wasn't impressed. " _Please_ go away." Hafa reasserted curtly. Was it so much to ask to be alone for a little while?

The ifrit came nearer still. "It's a curious thing, isn't it? I myself feel so relieved and free, I feel inclined to forgive all of the bad blood between us, Hafa'ma. Seeing you like this actually makes me want to pity you. Can you remember much?"

Hafa was further annoyed that this ifrit seemed to know more about his situation than he did. He considered not answering, just remaining silent until the ifrit decided to wander away. However, the djinn's words seemed to spur hazy memories to the surface.

"Sharik."

"Hmm. You remember me, that's interesting! What else?"

"What else matters?" Hafa asked dryly. "If you pity me, you'll leave me be."

"You're speaking awfully soundly for one who just had their essence ripped out of a mortal body. Tell me, what's your mental state like? If after all your essence has been through you've _still_ managed to retain your sanity, you would be even more incredible than I thought."

All he wanted was for Sharik to stop talking. Nothing he was saying made any sense. Mortal body? His mental state? Hafa was growing more irritated by the second. He wished he were feeling good enough to move somewhere else, perhaps another country or somewhere near the ocean. In equal measure he wanted to stay, for reasons unknown to him.

"Hafa'ma, do you wish to feel better?" Sharik asked, flourishing something shining and earthly before him, something that Hafa strongly felt he knew. His soul twitched at the sight of the ring, plain looking and worn aside from the glittering blue gem that filled up one of the four indents on the ring's surface.

"By all accounts, my essence should be just as damaged as yours. The Seal of Solomon healed me better than I could have imagined." Sharik said, his essence swelling. "It undid everything - the torment I suffered at the hands of the accursed Solomon, my centuries of living as a parasitic soul and the last several years I've spent inhabiting the body of that mortal brat… The power I now hold is capable of anything. I could heal your essence easily. Would you like that?"

Hafa was transfixed by the ring. Somehow, the iron band meant more to him than the power that was within it. He felt angry somehow, bitter that it was in Sharik's possession. Was he jealous? Or was there some other reason?

"Why would you help me?" Hafa asked suspiciously.

"I told you," Sharik said with a scoff, "I'm feeling charitable. I'm creating a new world, a new order. I see no reason to fight among my own kind. I'm offering you a chance to rule with me, in a world free of humans and their tyranny."

Sharik's words were shaking something free. Hafa could feel it deep inside, rattling around, desperate to break the surface of his mind. He felt thin. It was as if he was in two places at once, struggling to maintain the connection while also trying to sever it. If he allowed himself to float in that space between the two ends, he could hear someone calling him by a name that was not his name. The voice was maddeningly familiar, and it made him feel warm. Hafa regarded the ring again.

"Why help me, when you could easily enslave me instead?" he challenged. Sharik groaned.

"I'm offering you the world, and you're being snarky?" the ifrit admonished. "Only _one_ other djinn has ever obtained the Seal of Solomon before me - the foolish Sakhr - and he only managed to rule for forty days before Solomon tricked him into relinquishing the Seal. I intend to break that record by a few millenia. And when I am no more, I can leave the Seal to you to rule in my place. Why would you worry about being enslaved when I'm offering you something so magnificent?"

"What if I refuse your offer?" Hafa asked curiously.

"Then I would enslave you. Or destroy you. Perhaps both, at separate times, of course." Sharik answered easily.

Hafa believed that Sharik could destroy him, certainly, but he didn't believe that he could be enslaved by the ring, and he was sure that Sharik knew that as well. The mysterious connection he currently felt between himself and an unknown source was preventing Solomon's Seal from recognizing him as a djinn. Whether or not this was a cause for concern remained to be seen.

"Then you'd better hurry up and do something, because I have no plans to join you." Hafa said. Sharik's essence flared indignantly.

"Why are you so stupid?" Shairk demanded hotly. "Don't tell me… Even now, after shedding that shameful mortal body, you still feel a need to defend those revolting humans?"

Did he? The voice was growing louder in his head, and he thought he could feel arms around him, holding him tightly. A baseless urgency was continuing to grow inside of him, a sensation of needing to do something but not knowing what it was.

_Haru... You promised, didn't you?_

Who was Haru? Why did it ring so strongly within his scrambled essence?

_You promised you'd come back to me! Haru, please…_

A thousand lives flashed by, all of them different save for one element. This name, over and over again, and this voice calling out to him. He had seen them so many times, every time his soul had been without a body or a place to call home. He didn't understand what he'd been seeing until now. It was him, always him.

He remembered everything in an instant. Makarim and the others were trapped underground. He needed to save them, and he needed to stop Sharik. Before he realized what he was doing, Hafa was collecting his essence into a more corporeal form, a sleek dolphin, a form he had taken so many times that he no longer needed to think about it any more than one thinks about breathing. Sharik's teeth clicked together angrily.

"Dear Hafa'ma, you wouldn't be thinking of doing anything rash, would you?" the ifrit asked pitiably. "In the state you're in, I fear you would simply come to pieces."

Hafa wasn't listening. He needed to get to the others as quickly as possible, and he was focusing all of his strength into transporting himself underground. Just as he was focusing his energy, something freezing cold and sharp was twisting itself around him, effortlessly holding him in place.

"I'm disappointed in you," Sharik said, holding Hafa tightly, his tail coiling around the marid. "I thought that perhaps we could find an understanding, seeing as how we're so alike. There aren't many djinn who can say they've been through what we have. I enjoyed the prospect of ruling with someone as unique as myself."

The thread of energy was cutting into Hafa's soul. With a snap and a mighty thrash, Hafa was thrown into the stone bricks lining the oasis, colliding strongly enough to break a sizable hole in the stone. The water rushed into the new space so rapidly that Hafa felt crushed by the pressure alone.

Hafa was surprised that he was still conscious. He had hit the wall as a solid object would hit another solid object, which was unusual as he was in the Other World. Interacting with the mortal plane if one was not currently inhabiting it was difficult and usually granted less satisfaction than the amount of energy used to make it happen. Hafa wondered if Sharik had become so powerful as to effortlessly alter their surroundings on multiple planes, or whether the effects of the massive summoning earlier had plunged the two worlds into a state of co-habitation. Either option was disastrous and equally unfortunate for him at the current moment.

Sharik had been right about one thing… Hafa felt like he was coming to pieces. It was like two pages from a book that had been stuck together and were then pulled apart, each page still holding onto bits of the other. He wasn't sure what use he would be like this, but he didn't intend to give up. He collected himself again, pulling into his dolphin form.

"I could have healed you. Instead, you're choosing to die. It's _pathetic_." Sharik chided. Hafa ignored his words and rushed him. Dark tendrils of energy snaked from Sharik's form, stabbing Hafa directly at his core. The tendrils dug into him and then pulled him apart just as easily as those fluttering, sad torn pages from the book. Hafa's essence was flung in several directions, attached only by thin threads of consciousness. With all the strength he could muster, Hafa attempted to pull himself back together again, only to be pierced by a trident-like appendage in place of Sharik's arm.

"It's been a very long time since I've destroyed a fellow djinn," Sharik said distantly. He sounded fuzzy as Hafa's senses fled him. He could hear Makarim's voice again, once again sounding as if it were floating to him from the other end of a long hallway.

"I truly am sorry that it had to end this way, Hafa'ma. My only regret is that you won't be able to see your human friends die." Hafa was slipping away. The space around him was melting and breaking down, covering him in darkness. He felt Sharik twist and pull at the energy at his center, effectively severing him from whatever remained of his soul.

"Goodbye."

.

.

.

Reem and Rim had placed themselves between Makarim and Najiya and the djinn as they drew nearer. Makarim was shaking Hafa gently, calling to him, but all of them were swiftly losing hope.

As several djinn rose their various weapons, a gust of wind emerged from directly in front of the men, just before a massive creature appeared. It was undoubtedly a djinn in the form of a giant wildcat, fawn-colored, teeth bared and fur standing erect. With a sweeping motion it grabbed up the five men with its tail, just as strange rune-like markings began to line the walls of the room. Before anyone could properly react, the room was spinning away from them, lost in a blur of color and motion.

An instant later the men were landing on hard floor. Makarim wearily pulled himself up, looking worriedly around at the others. Reem had broken Najiya's fall, but the blonde was still hissing in pain, holding his broken arm as Reem gently tried to help. Rim was groaning and moving to stand, and Hafa's limp body had landed nearby on his stomach.

The room was unexpectedly lavish. It looked like some sort of common room, littered with cushions, tables and adorned with large blood-red and gold curtains that were swept up to showcase the sand dunes surrounding the palace. Broken bits of stone littered the floor from the earlier quakes.

"Is everyone alright?" Makarim asked, and received several groans and grunts in reply. Makarim hurried to Hafa, checking his breathing. Rim knelt down next to him.

"Is he still…?"

"Still breathing," Makarim said with a sigh. "But what in the world happened?"

" _ **I**_ happened," Miss Maha said huffily, appearing before them in her human guise, hands on her hips. "My question to _you_ is where would you be if I hadn't decided to check on you all? What were you even _doing_ down there?!"

"Miss Maha, I thought you weren't going to be doing any fighting-?" Najiya asked as Reem helped him to stand.

"I'm not! That's why I got out of there as quick as I could!" Maha tilted her head at Najiya with a concerned air. "My goodness, what happened to your arm?"

"Are Rani and Ru'a okay?" Makarim cut in worriedly.

Maha clicked her tongue. "Of course! I wouldn't have left otherwise, would I?"

"Pardon me," said Reem curiously, "but what were those strange symbols we saw just before you pulled us out? Were you responsible for them?"

"It's a containment spell, but _believe me_ , it won't hold them there for long. I'm not nearly as powerful as those djinn down there."

"Thank you again, Miss Maha," Makarim said earnestly. "You saved us just in time."

Maha glanced down at the men from her position in the air, crossing her legs. "What happened down there, anyway? What happened to the plan? I can see he got out of that body, but where is he now?"

Makarim lowered his gaze to Hafa's motionless form but couldn't think of anything to say. Rim re-adjusted his grip on the pipe that he still held in his hand. "We don't know. He didn't come back for us."

"Did something go wrong?" Maha asked, concerned.

"We're not sure." Reem answered. Najiya was frowning down at one of the tables that they'd thankfully avoided when landing moments earlier.

"Whatever happened, Haru wouldn't leave us," Najiya said resolutely. "I _know_ he wouldn't. He's out there somewhere, trying to get back to us."

Reem nodded. "I think so too."

Rim looked at Makarim, and then at the pipe in his hands. His hand tightened around it.

Makarim pressed his forehead against Hafa's, squeezing his eyes closed. Hafa's breathing was faint, and his skin was cool to the touch. Makarim suppressed a sob. If Hafa had failed, their world was over. No one would be safe from Sharik's army. They could escape the palace, regroup, try and think of something else… In the end, the likeliness of them succeeding were slim to none. What frightened Makarim the most was the possibility that they were never meant to win.

At the same time, Makarim felt selfish. In his heart he knew that he wanted to try and protect the world, but what chiefly mattered to him were the people he loved in the palace. If he could just keep all of them safe, he could watch the world burn without losing hope. He held Hafa more tightly.

"Haru... You promised, didn't you?" Makarim said, feeling warm tears well up behind closed lids. "You promised you'd come back to me! Haru, please..."

_It's meaningless without you._

.

.

.

Hafa was floating somewhere dark.

For being otherworldly entities, djinn have no more idea of what occurs after death than humans do, so Hafa was unsure if he had reached the Heavens that Makarim had asked him about. His soul had been so swapped around and damaged, Hafa wasn't even sure Heaven would welcome him. It was possible he was doomed to drift through space for all eternity, forever detached from the rest of the world and its principals. Or maybe the Seven Heavens were no more than a fairy tale that parents told their children in this part of the world. Perhaps the other lives he'd seen were just fever dreams. Hafa wasn't terribly concerned about the specifics.

There wasn't much left of himself to hold onto. As Hafa drifted, he took comfort in the fact that the immensely dark expanse in which he found himself felt almost like water from the deepest depths of the ocean, but without all of the obnoxious pressure. It felt almost tranquil, healing. As time moved forward, Hafa seemed to be floating deeper and deeper into an abyss that had no end. Hafa relented to it. He was tired. His soul felt more tainted and heavy than any soul should feel, and he was almost happy, in a way, that he no longer needed to worry about it. His only regret was that he couldn't save Makarim and the others. When it came down to it, in fact, he had been remarkably useless.

Hafa could see a light from above. He could hear Makarim's voice, distant but earnest, calling for him. He was calling him by that name, the name that _was_ his name, his real and true name. Even here, in a place like this…? Was there no where that Makarim could not reach him? Hafa wanted to call back but his mouth wouldn't work. He wasn't even sure he had a mouth anymore.

Somewhere in this noiseless place, something made a sound, like a muffled splash. The light from above was moving, breaking apart, as if something had broken the surface of water. It looked like a hand, extending out, reaching for him. Hafa understood. It had always been this way, in every life. It had always been Makarim to pull him up and toward the light. He had thought he was going to save Makarim, he was _determined_ , but in the end it was always the other way around.

The stray parts of Hafa's essence were coming back together. The light was unbelievably bright. Hafa gathered up the last of his energy to grab Makarim's hand. He was being pulled up, up, up… The light was nearly blinding, and he closed his eyes tightly to block it out. He felt like he was moving at breakneck speed, the space whizzing away around him and out of view as he was pulled to the surface.

.

.

.

Soft hair was brushing against his nose. Hafa's body felt frozen, his muscles tense and momentarily unresponsive. He was sore, unbelievably so. His lungs were taking in so little air he felt he might suffocate, and his limbs refused to move. It all felt consistent with his previous resurrections, a body waking up from death and whirring back to life, except more difficult, more tedious. Before he could dwell on the differences, his body spasmed, and he inhaled an enormous gasp for air which dissolved into coughing.

"Haru…!" He was hearing Makarim's voice as if his ears were filled with water. He slumped into Makarim's embrace, exhausted. Suddenly voices were around him on all sides.

"Haru! Are you alright? Can you hear us?"

"What happened? Did something go wrong, or…?"

"Hey, Hafa…!"

Hafa opened his eyes. Makarim, Rim, Reem and Najiya were all staring down at him, eyes shining in surprise and concern. Maha peeked over Makarim's shoulder. Hafa didn't feel up to questioning anything, but he assumed that Maha had succeeded where he had failed to save everyone.

"What…" Hafa's voice came out a hoarse croak. It was different this time. Coming back to life had never been an especially comfortable process, but usually by now, after having regained consciousness, he would feel his body healing itself and stiffly beginning to function. He felt none of this, only the residual sting of where Rim's blade had met his arm and a consuming exhaustion that left him feeling worse than he'd ever felt.

Makarim held Hafa more tightly and shook his head at him with a firm glare. "Don't try to speak. Miss Maha, can you tell us what's happened to him? Is Haru okay?"

The jann floated in closer, looking him over. "I'm not sure. He seems different than before."

"Meaning…?" Rim asked impatiently.

"It means that I wouldn't be able to recognize him as a djinn. On a physical level, at least, he's completely mortal."

Makarim stared down at Hafa with large eyes. "Haru… How could that be? What happened on the other side?"

Hafa managed to sit up with help from Makarim. He wasn't accostomed to this lingering feeling of pain and fatigue. He cleared his throat.

"It's all a mess," he said quietly, shutting his eyes to try and preserve the confusing maze of pictures and sounds that were his most recent memories. Just like in the Other World, they already felt so far away and unreal that he could barely remember. "Sharik found me, but I was no match for him. I was so tired and my essence was so scrambled… I'm sorry-"

"Don't even _think_ about apologizing!" Najiya exclaimed seriously.

"He's right," Makarim agreed solemnly. "You've done too much for us already. You couldn't have known how it would have turned out without trying." He smiled, relief lighting up his features. "Honestly, I'm just glad you're back. How do you feel?"

"Terrible," Hafa admitted.

"What now?" asked Reem. "Our only plan failed. We don't have the ring, and the djinn are still on the loose."

"Staying here isn't an option." Rim said. "I say we get the hell out of here, as quickly as possible."

"To _where_?" Najiya inquired. "Is there anywhere to hide in the city?"

Maha was floating above the men, completing slow, languid circles in the air. "The city is crawling with djinn by now. I can sense them everywhere. Sharik probably wants to conquer the city first anyway, don't you think?"

" _Shit_." Rim spat, starting to pace.

Makarim helped Hafa to stand, keeping him braced with both arms. "I hate to run away and just leave everything as it is. The ring was _my_ responsibility, I feel like I should-"

"There's nothing to be done," Hafa cut in, taking steady breaths. "We have to think realistically. The best idea would be to escape and regroup." Noting Makarim's crestfallen expression, Hafa placed a hand gently on his chest. "I don't like it anymore than you do, and I feel guilty just running away, but it's all we can do right now."

"He's right, don't go thinking about being a fucking hero." Rim snapped seriously. "That's how you get yourself killed."

There was something hot pressing on Hafa's back, and a sudden hissing in his ears. He felt his knees buckle as his vision began to swim; Makarim was holding him up, asking what was wrong, while Rim was calling to him in a stern, almost disquieted tone. Hafa knew why. Rim had experienced this before, so many times, this chilling sensation that felt as though it was shaking through his bone marrow.

A blast of energy easily rivaling Ghazi's ta'wiz erupted seemingly from in between Hafa and Makarim's bodies. Makarim hit Rim, both of them stumbling backward to the floor, while Hafa alone was launched halfway across the room. He landed painfully on his side, sputtering a groan, his body feeling as fragile as his essence had minutes ago. His body was making no effort to heal itself. The curse had been broken. He was entirely mortal. Hafa felt hot bile rise in his throat, a sensation that he desperately kept in check.

A shadowy mass rose from the floor, red eyes blazing, Seal of Solomon glowing brightly on an elongated finger. His form had changed again, he was taller, his eyes smaller and more focused. He took several light steps toward Hafa, his razor-like grin stretched to each side of his face.

"Look at you! How is this _possible_?" the ifrit asked with a flourish of his arms. "Truly remarkable! I stomped out your essence, but you still managed to return to this weak little shell. Don't you feel disgraceful? No trace of you is left. You are _mortal_. I feel I'm doing you a _kindness_ by killing you."

A sudden clacking of footsteps erupted from behind the ifrit. The only indication that Sharik had noticed something was a slight incline of his head and a twitch of his arm. Makarim was stopped in his tracks - a mere ten feet from the ifrit - by a snaking, pulsing dark tendril that grabbed him around the ankles and promptly sent him crashing to the ground. It quickly expanded and made its way up his body, binding his legs and arms tightly, finally stopping once it had slid over his mouth to silence him. Hafa felt a surge of panic accompany the bile.

"Wait your turn, Son of Solomon," Sharik called, continuing on toward Hafa. With a flick of his wrist Hafa was hoisted up by unseen hands, the tips of his shoes barely grazing the floor - Sharik's charred face was close to his, sneering. "I should have expected some strange side-effects, considering. Seems that you were in a mortal vessel for so long, you stayed connected somehow. So if you die _now_ , you should be dead for good, right?" One of those horrid fingers caressed his face, its sharp point cutting into his cheek and dragging across his skin. Hafa's mouth opened, a squeak of pain tumbled out.

There was a dull buzzing in Hafa's head. Was that what happened, after all? Was it the curse that kept him connected to his human body, or was it something else? Hafa deeply felt that there was more to it. Even now, he didn't regret anything. The death of his marid soul was not as difficult to stomach as he'd expected it to be. He felt as if he had lost a limb, an invisible appendage that had been present these last few years but served no real purpose other than to remind him of all the things he wasn't. Since meeting Makarim, it had become less important, less intrusive. Now that it was gone, it felt like it hadn't really been there to begin with.

Warm blood trickled down his cheek. Across the room, Hafa could hear Najiya shouting something anxiously. Looking over Sharik's shoulder, Hafa could see no sign of Maha. She was either hiding, or she had left all of them. He hoped it was not the latter. If she could do him one more favor before he died, he prayed that it would be to get the others to safety, before Sharik discovered her.

"How does it feel?" Sharik asked curiously. "I bet that pain has a whole new meaning now. No matter what I do to you, you can't recover from it. Is this what you were after, Hafa? Is this the precious mortal life you coveted?"

Before Hafa could answer he was flung against the farthest wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and his back and side burned with intense pain as he crumbled to the floor, struggling to get his breath back.

Sharik appeared before him in seconds. Hafa's vision was blurred, Sharik's outline erratic and hard to define, but he could see well enough to notice the ifrit's arm had grown in length and had been sharpened to a fierce point. He drew his arm back and cocked his head.

"I really meant it when I offered to heal you, Hafa. I rather liked the idea of you ruling by my side. But in the end, you chose this. You chose to die as a human. I hope some piece of you lives on in Jahannam to remember your shameful decision."

Hafa coughed, flecks of blood peppering the floor. "I'd rather die a thousand times as a human than live one day as a djinn alongside you." he growled. Sharik's eyes glinted, and his arm wavered.

Although his gaze was bleary, Hafa could just make out Makarim, still bound and gagged but staring back at him, eyes wet. If it was going to end, he was glad that it was here - in Makarim's world, breathing the same air. He only wished Makarim didn't have to watch.

With a sudden decisive motion, Sharik lunged. Out of the corner of Hafa's eye, billowing robes and a mess of crimson hair flew into view, grabbing Sharik by his jagged shoulders and holding on tightly as the sword-like appendage impaled him. Rim cried out, a wail of pain that shook Hafa back to his senses and horrified him to his core.

"R- _Rim_...!"

Blood splattered to the floor in sick slaps. Sharik's blade was driven deep within Rim's chest, exiting just under his right shoulder blade. The ifrit looked momentarily taken aback, locked in the embrace, Rim's hands still gripping his shoulders in a literal death grip.

"You're not… just going to get… everything you want, you b-bastard," Rim wheezed furiously, the air between he and the djinn vibrating with intensity. Sharik pulled back, severing their embrace, his arm tearing from Rim's body in a spray of blood. With a gurgle and a choke, Rim fell forward in a growing pool of dark crimson. Hafa pushed himself up and scrambled to the Prince, gently turning him over, pulling him into his arms. With wide eyes he lingered over the gushing chest wound, Rim's soft noises drowned out by Sharik's high-pitched laughter.

"The idiocy of humans truly knows no boundary. I can think of no better way to have killed you, dear Rim, then in such a meaninglessly sacrificial wa- way..." Sharik's mocking voice faltered and fell. Hafa looked up to see Sharik changing form, his essence fading and flickering only to reform a moment later into a more blobular frame. He looked to be blinking in and out of their plane of existence.

"What is… What's happening?" His voice sounded as though it were trapped in a tube. His form was dissolving altogether, leaving only his swelling essence, black and blotted with distortion.

"S-seems that you were in a mortal vessel for too long…" Rim gasped, the corners of his mouth pulled into a sarcastic smirk. "You st- stayed connected. So if you die now…. you should be dead for good, right...?"

Even while lacking any means of expression, Sharik looked utterly horrified. As a last desperate effort he formed himself arms, the Seal of Solomon shining on a flickering finger. The moment the Seal was within sight, a faun-haired woman appeared beside Sharik, grasping the ring in both hands and pulling it from his essence. With a terrified yipe the woman was replaced with a frantically dashing field mouse, the Seal of Solomon between its teeth. The mouse reached Makarim as he was ripping away the last of the decaying tendril; Maha tossed the ring to Makarim and he caught it with ease, shoving it onto his finger. It shone so brightly, Hafa had to avert his eyes.

Makarim's voice echoed as though it were a torrent. "I, Makarim, son of Tahiyah, descendant of King Solomon order all djinn to cease action immediately and leave our world!" No sooner had the words been spoken than a great rumbling began to shake the ground under their feet. Stone rained from the ceiling, coating the floor in dust and rubble but miraculously avoiding the men; the disorientating warbling air surrounding them appeared to be sucked from the room, the small temporal rips littering their plane sealing themselves with fleeting shots of bright light. Makarim's emerald eyes flashed furiously to Sharik's quickly deteriorating form.

"I command the ifrit known as Sharik to be bound between worlds, locked away forever, never able to materialize on any plane of reality. Should he ever find his way back, he should fear the Seal of Solomon."

Sharik was gone before the tremors had ceased.

The air was quiet. Hafa had never heard so much stillness before, and it unnerved him. He looked down, half-hoping to see that Rim had miraculously healed, but what he held in his arms was a gasping, wheezing mess of a person, gorged from the inside out. Blood soaked through Hafa's clothes with an unbearable weight. Hafa's throat was dry, and he feared if he tried to speak it would come out as a sob.

"Rim… Why did you…" Hafa broke off. Rim shook his head just barely.

"What a… Stupid qu- estion…" he breathed. As he spoke, Makarim and Reem dropped down on either of his sides, Najiya hurrying along with them and looking down at the Prince with tears staining his pink face.

"Prince Rim! You… Oh, gods…" Reem's hand was hovering pathetically over the wound, shaking, desperate to help but knowing that there was absolutely nothing to be done.

"Rim, _no_ , we were just getting to be friends!" Najiya sobbed. "You _can't_ …"

Rim shut his eyes, his breath coming out in short, painful huffs. "S'okay," he said, a sharp cough drawing his brows together in discomfort. "I've… Been dead… For a long time. Being w-with you guys made- unng- me feel alive, for a little while. So… thanks."

Makarim was wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and Najiya had his face pressed into Reem's shoulder, crying openly. Hafa wasn't sure what to feel. He stared down at Rim with wide, searching eyes, as if asking for guidance. Rim opened his eyes, meeting Hafa's. They looked to be quickly losing focus.

"D-do me a favor…?" he asked, and Hafa merely nodded, unhesitatingly. "Make su-sure Ghazi and Aini are taken care of. Te…. Tell them I love 'em, yeah? And tell Aini… I'm sorry… I sh- should've treated him better…"

"We'll tell them." Hafa said, his voice catching in his throat.

Makarim placed his hand on Rim's head, stroking some hair away from his forehead soothingly. "They both love you dearly, Rim. They already know all of that, but we'll tell them. Word for word."

Rim let his eyes fall closed. "Thanks," he said. And then he said no more.

.

.

.

None of them were sure how much time had gone by. Their only indicator was the orange-tinted sky melding with the blues and purples of a waning night, the promise of a sunrise.

Miss Maha had left to check on the others just after the magick words had been spoken, and had reported back to say that all was well. She had been asked to stay with the others, but not to tell them anything other than to stay put and stay safe. No one knew what else to say. No one knew how to relay what had happened.

Hafa woke with his head resting in Makarim's lap. Najiya and Reem sat a few feet away on a large cushion, Reem laying back with an arm covering his face, Najiya sitting with his knees pulled up and his good arm slung around them, forehead nestled in his arm, shoulders twitching with the occasional sob. Rim's corpse lay near Hafa, hands folded at his stomach, an unsullied bit of his robe draped over his face. Makarim was slowly and methodically running his fingers through Hafa's hair, eyes half-lidded and heavy with grief.

They stayed this way for a while longer. Collectively, they were at a loss for what to do next. Although they had presumably just stopped Sharik's short-lived tyranny and saved the known world, none of them felt like rejoicing. Who would find them first? Ghazi? Aini? Which of them would be the first to see Rim's lifeless body? And what of the city? None of them yet had the energy to try navigating through the palace to check on the state of the kingdom. For all they knew, it was in ruins.

Najiya was the first to get up. Sniffling, he crossed the room, gingerly picking up an item from the floor and blowing the dust from it. He carefully made his way over to Rim's body, kneeling down beside him and placing the object in Rim's hands.

Makarim had been watching with interest. "He brought along the hookah?" he asked quietly. Najiya nodded, murmuring a prayer under his breath.

Hafa stared with an even gaze. "Why?" Hafa asked, almost demandingly. All eyes moved to him. He hadn't spoken since Rim had passed.

"Why…?" Makarim repeated gently, encouraging Hafa to elaborate.

"Why did he bring it?" Hafa tried again.

Makarim looked down. "He told me it would be a shame to leave it, since there was such a powerful enchantment tied to it…. Haru, what are you doing?"

Hafa had stood up, walked to Rim's body, and was staring down at him as if contemplating something. Najiya stared up at him in surprise, and Reem stood up as well, alarmed.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Reem," Hafa said, surprising the entire room, "Could you find me chalk, or paint? Or charcoal, if neither of the other two?"

Reem's mouth fell open. "I… Uhh, I suppose I could, but-"

"I'll need whichever one you can get the fastest. It might already be too late." Hafa turned to meet Reem's confused gaze, blue eyes burning. "Please."

The officer needed no other incentive. "Right away," Reem called, running from the room. Hafa offered a hand to help Najiya to his feet. Najiya took it, and Hafa helped him up carefully.

"Makarim, help me move Rim."

"H-huh? Where to? Haru, what are we doing?"

Hafa helped Najiya back to his cushion. He walked back to Rim, gently taking him under the arms, and boring into Makarim with eyes that were still as unnatural and intense as when he had been a marid.

"We're going to curse Rim." he said. "Now help me move him, and some of this furniture."

.

.

.

Reem had returned fairly quickly with chalk. There had been plenty of it cast around the throne room, he said, presumably put there by Sharik while he worked on his circle. Now Hafa was making a circle of his own, the other men watching on in wonder as Hafa drew out the runes. Rim's body lay in a circle, connected to another enormous circle by a line of runes. A third, much smaller circle was drawn adjacent to Rim's circle, which contained the brass pipe. Hafa was working on the smaller, more intricate lines when finally Makarim spoke up.

"Haru, what exactly are we trying to do? I'm not one to spit in the face of hope, but…"

"The pipe is still embedded with a curse. The curse itself is simple. It forces you to live forever, fated to wander the sands in search of water, only to die again and again," he explained, pausing in his work to recall the finer details. _Dear Gods if I'm allowed to remember_ anything _clearly from that day, let it be this ritual._

"The pipe catches your soul and keeps it within itself. That was its purpose, that's why it was in the underground room. So that even if I found this city, I would not be reunited with it." he continued.

"But… Rim is dead, Haru…" Najiya said softly, sadly. "I don't think it's the same as what happened with you. And you were a djinn, put in the body of a human, right? Rim's already human, so…"

"If I alter the incantation a little, it might work." Hafa said.

"Might?" Reem repeated worriedly.

"I'm not against it," Makarim put in. "If there's even a _chance_ we can save him, I feel like we should take it."

Reem frowned remorsefully. "I apologize for putting in an opinion if only for the sake of argument, but what if this goes wrong? It's true that we will have tried, and we will have had the best of intentions, but what if we accidentally destroy the body? Or worse, what if Prince Rim resents living in such a way? What if he would have rather…"

Hafa finished drawing and stood up, tossing the chalk aside. "He once cursed me because of the bitterness and loneliness he felt in his heart. I've never held it against him, not for a single day. I'm choosing to curse him in order to save him, and if that means he hates me every day for the rest of his life, however long that may be, I won't hold that against him, either."

No one had any further objections. Once everything was double-checked, Hafa stepped into the center of the largest circle. He recited the words in his head before speaking them aloud, careful to choose the appropriate words and alter them accordingly. As he spoke, Rim's circle began to glow. The light was not unlike the power of the ta'wiz, soft in nature but overpoweringly bright; the men all shut their eyes just as the light spread out, snaking along the runes and connecting to the smaller circle that held the pipe.

Something floated from Rim's mouth and drifted to the pipe. The airy substance resisted the pull several times before succumbing, being drawn in completely, and another flash of light knocked the pipe off balance and tipped it over. The clang of brass against smooth floor marked the end of the ritual. In Rim's circle, only a large spot of dried blood was proof of where he'd been laying. He was gone. The hookah was glowing weakly.

"Where is he?" Najiya asked in alarm. "Where did he go?"

Hafa sank to his knees. His shoulders shook and trembled, and he allowed his head to bow so that his hair might shield his face from view.

"He just woke up somewhere in the desert, alone, and dying of thirst." Hafa answered.

It was the first time he ever cried in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Originally this chapter was going to be two chapters, but after some complications I thought it would be better as one chapter, instead of leaving off on awful cliffhangers. One chapter to go! JUST ONE! I'm incredibly excited to finish this thing, but at the same time, I'm a little sad. And what great timing, too, with season two just around the corner!
> 
> Last chapter should be out by the end of the week! Thank you guys for sticking with me for so long, it's incredible. I hope you've enjoyed my story so far! uwu


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We fix our gaze on this endless summer  
> In each of our own ways  
> Being ourselves  
> Aiming for the dazzling light  
> We reached out  
> \- Splash Free!

"Past lives?" chimed Makarim, not a shred of disbelief to be found in his voice, "Do you remember anything about them?"

As he spoke he pulled a small leather-bound book out of his thawb along with a stick of charcoal and jotted something down. Hafa set down the basin of water he had carried from the other room and quirked a brow at Makarim.

"Are you writing down what I'm saying again?"

"Of course!" Makarim said, smiling as he wrote, "You said yourself that you're forgetting things, right? I want to write down as much as I can, so that even if you forget, we can still have your words somewhere." His charcoal halted on the page, and he glanced up at Hafa, worried. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Hafa was quick to amend, "just don't show it to anyone else."

"I promise," Makarim chuckled. "So, these past lives, what can you remember?"

Hafa was staring into the water, dipping his hand in the cool liquid. "Not much," he admitted. "I just know they happened. Or will happen. They were too confusing to even make sense of while I was seeing glimpses of them." He regarded Makarim with a vaguely disbelieving look. "You believe me, then?"

Makarim finished writing and pocketed the book and the charcoal. "Of course I do," he replied, almost admonishingly. He picked up the two rugs he'd just beaten outside, carrying them to the other side of the room to lay them down. "Why wouldn't I? After everything I've seen, that doesn't even sound odd to me anymore. Strange, isn't it?"

Hafa laughed through his nose. "I suppose."

"Still, that means we'll be together for a long time, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I want to believe something like that." After laying down the rugs, Makarim stood up, exhaled a long breath, and placed his hands on his hips, surveying the room. "How does it look?"

"It's fine."

" _Just_ fine?" Makarim asked with a chuckle. "We've been cleaning since the sun came up. I want everything to be perfect."

"They aren't going to care about how clean it is. Rani and Ru'a will just be happy to be home, and Reem and Najiya will be too surprised to notice anything like that."

"I hope you're right." Makarim said. He stretched his arms in the air, urging his back and shoulders to crack. "What time is it?"

Hafa looked out the window to check the position of the sun and the shadows looming on the streets, his usual marker of time. His eyes lingered just on the horizon at the edge of the city, behind the rows of houses and shops. A huge, impressive palace used to stand prominently against the endless sky and sand dunes, rising above all else in the city and shaming it with its glory. Now there was nothing, only the clear sky and the city walls that defined civilization from the harsh desert.

"About three-thirty," he guessed. Makarim nodded, noting Hafa's lingering gaze. It was difficult for him, too. The palace had been there ever since he could remember. No longer seeing it as he walked about the city seemed wrong, like a piece of his world had been amputated. The worst part was that only _they_ remembered it ever having been there. The other citizens went about their lives never glancing up at where it had once stood, because for them, it never had. It was maddening.

It had been nine days since the events at the palace. Just after Rim had disappeared, Hafa, Makarim and the others had rejoined their friends and family, explaining to the best of their ability everything that had transpired. Ghazi, Aini and Siraj al Din had been understandably distraught but altogether supportive. There was hope. Rim was gone from them, but if Hafa had been found and _his_ curse had been broken, there was hope for Rim as well.

Makarim had noticed the shining pale-blue addition to the Seal of Solomon before anyone else. A jewel now filled up one of the four indents on the ring's surface, and Miss Maha immediately identified it as the Jewel of Water. They speculated that Sharik must have found the jewel at some point during his travels, which explained the vacancy of water in the land and the palace's overabundance of it. Wishing to set things right, they evacuated the palace, and Makarim attempted to set the water free with the power of the ring.

Before their very eyes the palace broke to pieces and crumbled. A great quake knocked them off their feet as the towers and windows all collapsed, gold and stone appearing to melt and dissolve to sand. When the world had settled, only a mountain of sand gave any indication of where the glorious palace once stood, and half-buried at the top of the mound was Rim's modest throne - his gold-adorned chair.

Sharik's curse on the city had been broken. Water returned to the land, as easily as if it had never left, and the citizens set to work immediately, collecting water and struggling to repair the damage done to the city. With no memory of the palace or the Prince, the people of the city were anxious. Their memories were undependable, and no two people had the same story as to what had happened. Eleven people had been killed as a result of the djinn attack on the city, and countless structures needed to be rebuilt. Adding to the mystery, several bodies had been found outside the city rotting on the sands - poisoned, the local physician said - identified as important men from neighboring kingdoms. Whispers of war and espionage had traveled quickly after that.

A city-wide funeral was held for the deceased. There was one body that was not present, the body of Tahiyah; Makarim had elected to hold a private service for him, the only people present being those who were burdened with the memory of how he had died. They performed the rites themselves, and buried him next to Makarim's mother.

In the ashes of the tragedy, the city was starting to prosper once again. The water had returned to the land. Although no one else could remember it being gone in the first place, the effects of its absence still lingered, and the city could finally begin to heal.

Makarim clapped his hands together, partly to mark the end of their cleaning session, partly to snap them both out of their thread of thought. "Right. Should we go, then?"

.

.

.

With the palace's law-enforcers and Holy Guard disbanded, or more accurately, never having existed, the communal house on the edge of town had brightened up a bit. The hidden entrance was no longer needed and a new entrance had been opened exactly where a proper entrance _should_ be, and there was no more need to use the tunnels. Many of the windows had been opened up to let in the daylight, and repairs were being made to the roof of the first building when Hafa and Makarim let themselves inside.

Asilah greeted them warmly and offered them a warm meal that they both politely refused before making their way to the top floor of the second building. The hallway was so strikingly nostalgic as they walked toward their destination; it hadn't even been a fortnight since they had stayed here and already the memories felt like they were from years ago.

"Can we come in?" Makarim asked gently after knocking on one of the doors. The clacking of shoes on wood hurriedly approaching the door could be heard from inside just before the door swung open, Rani beaming up at them.

"You're late!" Rani mock-scolded, and Makarim offered him an apologetic smile as the two men stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.

"Are we? I suppose the time got away from us," he admitted guiltily.

From the small table against the wall, Najiya smiled over at them. Ru'a was sitting squarely in Najiya's lap, holding a book in her hands, a fluffy orange cat curled up in her lap. Reem was sitting on the bed, sharpening a short sword.

"How's your arm feeling?" Makarim asked Najiya, who rolled his eyes in reply with a snort.

"You ask that _at least_ six times a day, you realize that, right?" Najiya chided playfully. "I'm fine, everybody's fine."

The day after the palace disappeared, Najiya's arm had been righted by a bone-setter and seen to by a physician. His arm was properly splinted and bound, but the arm would take at least six months to heal completely. The physician warned them that Najiya's arm might never function exactly as it should even after it healed, but Najiya wasn't concerned. He was positive that he could heal in less time than the bone-setter predicted with no after-effects. Somehow his hope was contagious, and it helped the others to relax, to a point. Reem was by far the most worried out of any of them, but as Makarim continued to remind him, he had his own wounds to tend to. Reem's shoulder was healing nicely but threatened a nasty scar, and his side had been dangerously close to getting infected before the physician had seen to him. Thankfully, medicines and herbs seemed to be doing the trick, and overall he was healing better than expected.

"Any word on Princess Ghazi? Or Aini, or Siraj al Din?" Reem asked curiously, setting down his work.

Makarim considered the question before placing his hand on Rani's head and smiling down at him. "Rani, could I ask you and your sister to run down and ask Asilah if she needs any help? She was dishing out some food when we showed up, and she looked like she could use a helping hand."

They were young, but the twins knew the difference between their brother asking them to perform chores versus scooting them out the door when needing to speak with the grown-ups about grown-up things. Rani thought to insist upon remaining but thought better of it.

"Ok _aaaay_. Ru'a, let's go."

Ru'a closed her book and set it gently on the table, hopping off of Najiya's lap, the orange cat shifting into a field mouse and scurrying to her shoulder. Rani grabbed his sister's hand, leading her from the room.

"And why don't you have a little to eat while you're down there? Don't forget your manners!" Makarim called to them as they made their way down the hall. They waved him off in their very best _'I know, I know,'_ fashion. Hafa closed the door.

"Nothing, then?" Reem ventured a guess.

Makarim shook his head. "Nothing. We've asked around, and no one has ever even heard of them."

"It makes sense," Hafa said. "Ghazi and Aini were from Rim's village, they didn't live here."

Najiya frowned. "That's strange though, isn't it? Why would they just leave without a word? The last time we saw them was the day after we buried Tahiyah, right?" The three of them had come early in the morning to pay their respects, and had left directly afterward, to where, they didn't mention.

Makarim nodded uneasily. "I'm worried about them. I don't believe that any of them have a place to call home, not with the palace having vanished. I figured we would have seen them here by now…"

"I would have assumed the same," Reem said.

"Do you think they went looking for Rim on their own?" Najiya asked somewhat hesitatingly. They hadn't spoken of Rim terribly often since that day over a week ago, not only for Hafa's sake, but because all of them were terribly worried about what may have become of him after the ritual.

"I hope not." Reem admitted. "I doubt they'd be able to find him on their own."

As Makarim had already noticed Hafa's demeanor sully with their current topic, he decided it was time for a change of subject.

"I'm sure we'll meet up with them again soon. Though, there was another reason I sent the twins out." Makarim said, crossing the room to sit at the foot of the bed. Hafa followed him, sitting just next to him. "I wanted to talk to you two about something."

Najiya perked up with curiosity, shifting in his seat to better regard his friends. "Really? What?"

Resting his hands in his lap, Makarim smiled. "Well… Forgive me if this is out of the blue, or being too presumptuous or something like that… I mean, I don't _think_ it is, but if it is, feel free to tell me and I'll never bring it up aga-"

"He wants you to live in his father's house." Hafa cut in, and Makarim's head snapped in his lover's direction, looking betrayed.

"I was getting to that!" he exclaimed earnestly.

Najiya's eyes were round. "Wha- Really? You'd want us to…?"

"There's no way we could possibly accept!" Reem said adamantly, his face flushed with surprise. "That's your family home, we couldn't _possibly_ intrude!"

Makarim smiled warmly. "Well, _you're_ both like family to me now." he said. Reem's mouth opened to retort and then closed, his face dusted pink. Najiya was still staring blankly as if he hadn't fully understood Makarim's words.

"I know it's a little unorthodox, and I know we haven't all known each other for that long, but you both have done more for me and my family than anyone else we've ever known. Rani and Ru'a love you, so I know they'd be more than happy to have you." Makarim reassured.

"You lived at the palace, right?" Hafa asked Reem, who nodded daftly in reply. "And Najiya, you've been staying here. Neither of you have a proper home, and now Makarim has one too many."

Reem seemed determined not to accept such a vast amount of hospitality. "But… That was Tahiyah's home. It just doesn't seem right…"

"There's no one else in the world that my father would have wanted to live in his house," Makarim pointed out seriously. "Besides, I'll admit, this isn't just me being generous. I would hate to have the twins have that whole house to themselves at their age… There isn't enough room for us all to live comfortably in the shop, but _someone_ needs to live there. This is for them just as much as it's for you. So, what do you say?"

Najiya was smiling from ear to ear, tears in his eyes. "Yes, of course! If Tahiyah wouldn't have minded, how can I say no?" He looked to Reem hopefully, and Reem relented with a heartfelt grin.

"I suppose I can't reject an offer like that, either," he said with a chuckle. "I would have to _insist_ on working at the shop to help earn my keep in any way that I can, however."

"Naturally," Makarim laughed.

"Me too! We'll both work really hard!" Najiya loudly interjected.

"Not until your arm heals," Reem asserted sternly. Najiya retorted with a drawn-out whine.

The door to the room creaked open and the twins framed the doorway, both of them smiling, Ru'a with her hands clasped together. "Did we hear that right?" she squeaked happily, the mouse on her shoulder peeking out through her hair.

"Are Najiya and Reem _really_ living with us?" Rani piped.

Makarim sighed exasperatedly, but he wasn't altogether surprised by their devious eavesdropping. "It looks that way," he told them with a smile.

The twins burst into the room and threw their arms around the men, chatting excitedly, asking questions and celebrating the new additions to their family. Hafa watched them all with a small smile on his lips, wondering how he had ever earned the right to partake in such happiness after everything he'd done and seen. At the current time, however, he wasn't exactly in the mood to question it.

.

.

.

Hafa bit into his pillow, elbows stabbing into the warm sheets.

It was a strange feeling, a _full_ feeling. He hadn't expected to enjoy this feeling of fullness, or the slick feeling of Makarim's hips slapping against his ass. He certainly hadn't counted on making the sounds he was making as a result, his fists balled tightly in the wool blankets, his eyes closed and his voice running on in incoherent moans and cries. His face was warm and his insides were warmer, the sensation of Makarim rubbing his deepest depths causing a flood of searing warmth that was counterbalancing the scant discomfort.

The pleasure had long overshadowed the pain. Makarim's hands were firmly gripping his hips, moving periodically to slide up the length of Hafa's back or press gently at the base of his spine to hold him steady. Every touch sent a million sensations shooting through Hafa's limbs like pleasurable tremors, quickly overwhelming him and sending him into a mindless state of bliss. It was hard to make sense of anything. From behind him, Makarim's breathing was becoming ragged, his groans rising in pitch and frequency.

"Hafa'ma… I'm sorry, I- I can't stop…" Makarim panted, his thrusts faster and more frantic. Hafa's shoulders finally gave way under him - the last pillar of strength he felt he had left - and he pressed his face into the pillow, vaguely aware of Makarim's words, more consumed by his actions.

He was being turned, taking a much-needed gulp of air as he was freed from the pillow. Makarim lifted one of Hafa's legs and hooked it over his shoulder, holding tightly to Hafa's thigh as he buried into him even more deeply. This shift allowed for Makarim to run over that elusive sweet-spot that Hafa and been so keen on hitting during their first time, and Hafa now knew why Makarim had reacted the way he had. The warmth and tightness in his stomach exploded and Hafa's cock followed suit, thick ropes of semen splattering onto his stomach and onto the bed. He felt himself tighten around Makarim's intruding length, so much that Makarim nearly looked like he was in pain; one well-timed, powerful thrust later Makarim was crying out, holding Hafa's leg tightly, coming for all he was worth and Hafa could _feel_ it swelling inside of him, feel the sensation of being filled more than he thought was possible. The two of them remained frozen for several seconds, riding out the after-shocks, before Makarim pulled out and slumped next to Hafa, his eyes half-open and bleary.

Still shaking, Hafa turned over and shuffled closer to Makarim, kissing him. It was several breathless moments before either of them spoke.

"Are you okay?" Makarim asked quietly. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I lost it a bit there at the end…"

Hafa shook his head. "You can be rough with me. I won't break easily. Besides, it felt… Good."

"Better than making love to me?"

"Different. I can't decide which is better."

Makarim laughed through his nose. "Me either."

Adjusting himself in bed and yanking the blankets up and over them both, Makarim wrapped his arms around Hafa's waist, pulling him close. Hafa bent into his embrace, resting his head under Makarim's chin. Makarim pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Hafa'ma… Is there something on your mind?" Makarim asked, somewhat timidly. Hafa tensed. "I'm sorry to ask, but… Ever since we left the communal house it seemed to me that there was something you wanted to say."

In lieu of an immediate response Hafa nestled his face in the bend of Makarim's neck, breathing in his scent. Makarim rubbed his back, a gentle encouragement to speak freely.

"I'm glad," Hafa finally said, his voice muffled and difficult to hear, but Makarim was a skilled listener.

"Glad?"

Hafa dissolved into an awkward silence, fidgeting slightly. Now that the pleasure had all but faded away, he was left with a dull ache in his ass that was making it difficult to get comfortable. It was strangely satisfying.

"...That you'd still want to be with someone like me." Hafa finished, and this time, Makarim had to gently wrestle the other man away from his neck, holding his face in his hands.

"What do you mean?"

Hafa glanced away. "I'm broken," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm not a djinn, I'm not human, and I have faulty memories from both lives. My existance is a mistake. I don't understand why you would want to be with me, but I'm glad you are."

Makarim's expression softened, and Hafa immediately felt ridiculous for having said anything. He hadn't meant to sour the mood, really, but Makarim's affection for him constantly shocked him. Makarim made him feel so loved, so _desired_ , even though he felt so utterly defective. He didn't feel like he belonged anywhere anymore. Nothing about the world felt right. He didn't regret the decisions he'd made, but nevertheless he felt those decisions glaring down at him with unfathomable weight.

Being here with Makarim, in his bed, in his _life_ made things more tolerable, but he knew that the real battle was going to have to waged by himself. It was the little things that were terrifying and panic-inducing, such as the notion of aging, eating regularly and needing to sleep for more than two hours at a time. The only thing that calmed him down when thinking of these strange new notions was the thought of doing them all with Makarim. If he didn't have that to hang onto, Hafa was sure that he would inevitably spiral into madness, just as Sharik had predicted.

"You're not broken," Makarim said firmly, running a hand through Hafa's hair. "To me, you're Hafa'ma _and_ Haru. You're thinking of yourself as a splintered being, made up of broken pieces from two different entities, but I don't see you that way. I think that those pieces make you whole, make you _you_. That's what I can't help but love about you."

Despite himself Hafa felt himself flush. Really, he expected that sort of reply from Makarim, but hearing it was still surreal. Hafa pushed his head forward to meet Makarim's mouth, kissing him slowly and earnestly. Makarim responded in turn, kissing him back with equal longing. The two parted after some time, finding their places entwined with each other to rest. Although both men were certainly tired enough to sleep, neither was considering it. There was still something up in the air, something unspoken hovering around them that was impossible to ignore.

"You're leaving to look for Rim, aren't you?" Makarim asked gently. Hafa shifted slightly in Makarim's arms, an indirect affirmative. He could hear Makarim smiling, though it was more melancholy than anything else. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Hafa admitted. He felt guilt and regret swell up into his throat, making it hard to breathe. "I wasn't just going to leave. I was going to tell you."

Makarim chuckled softly into Hafa's hair. "I know," he said easily. "I knew you were going to go as soon as you were healed up and everything else had been seen to. I feel a little guilty… You wanted to make sure we were all taken care of first, right?"

Hafa frowned. He almost hated for Makarim to be so understanding when he felt so rotten. "I can't leave him out there, I _have_ to go. It isn't that I don't want to stay-"

"Hafa'ma, I _know_ ," Makarim assured. "I only wish that I could go with you. I thought about it, you know. I thought that maybe leaving the twins in Reem and Najiya's care for a little while wouldn't be too bad, but… I just can't. I can't leave them, not now, not after everything that's happened."

"I wouldn't want you to." Hafa said firmly. "They need you. I won't be gone for long. I'm sure I can convince Miss Maha to come with me, so as soon as I find Rim, she can bring us both back here in the blink of an eye, no matter how far away we are."

Makarim's chest raised with a heavy breath. "That would make me feel a lot better, honestly." Pulling an arm out from under Hafa, Makarim pulled the magick silver band free from his middle finger and slipped it onto Hafa's, kissing the back of Hafa's hand. "I want you to take this, too."

Hafa regarded the ring on his hand, astonished. "But-"

"I'm not going to be using it." Makarim pointed out with a smile. "That ring is meant to control djinn and wield mastery of the elements, things that I have no interest in. It'll go to waste sitting on my finger while you're out there searching for Rim. The Seal could help you find him. It might even help keep you safe."

He pulled Hafa to him, nestling his face into his hair, breathing deeply. Hafa held him tightly, his chest constricting. "I want you to come back to me quickly and safely. _I want you safe_ , understand? Don't go being reckless, or forgetting that you're mortal." His voice sounded vaguely shaky, and Hafa squeezed his eyes shut, feeling wicked for making Makarim suffer in any way.

"I promise," Hafa said quietly. He really meant it. He was no longer interested in blind reassurance, or half-truths. He had every intention of coming back this time.

.

.

.

Hafa hadn't gotten as much sleep as he would have liked, but it was unavoidable. Both he and Makarim had slept fitfully with the knowledge that they were to be saying goodbye to each other in the morning. Just before the sun began peeking on the horizon they had woken up to pack and prepare; Hafa was grateful for Makarim's help, as he had never packed supplies meant to keep oneself alive for any amount of time.

Their first stop was Tahiyah's home. Makarim was adamant that everyone would want to see Hafa off, and he was right, as always. The twins took it the hardest, but Hafa could have predicted that. Of any of them, they had the poorest grasp of the situation.

"You can't leave!" Rani exclaimed, stamping his foot, pretending he wasn't blinking away tears. "Big brother said we're all a family now! It wouldn't be fair if you left!"

"Please don't go," Ru'a said, her small arms circled around Hafa's waist, looking up at him with pleading eyes shimmering with water. "You promised to teach me to swim, didn't you?"

"You two, stop trying to make Haru feel guilty," Makarim said reproachfully. "he isn't going to be gone for long."

"Then he shouldn't leave at all!" Rani snapped bitterly, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand.

Najiya emerged from the bedroom, the last of them to get dressed. He smiled sadly. "It's hard for them to understand, Haru," he said with a chuckle. Despite his cool demeanor Hafa distinctly thought Najiya's eyes looked a bit more red since he'd disappeared into the bedroom to change his clothes after the announcement.

Kneeling down, Hafa took each of the sibling's hands and held them between his own. "I'm glad you think of me as family." Hafa said seriously. He knew he still wasn't terribly good at saying encouraging things, but lately he'd learned to trust his gut and simply say the words that he felt needed to be said. It was a tactic that was still rough around the edges, but it was better than nothing. He'd grown to care for Makarim's siblings far more than he'd originally anticipated, and he felt he owed them more than cliche promises of a quick return and tepid reasoning for his absence.

"I've never had a family before. That's why I have to leave. Rim is someone important to me, and he doesn't have a family. He's all alone right now."

Ru'a sniffed, her pleading expression quickly melting into concern. Rani's face was determinedly turned away from Hafa in a huff, but his eyes moved to watch Hafa curiously as he spoke.

"He doesn't have anyone at _all_?" Ru'a asked, her voice quiet.

"No. He's just like I was before Makarim found me. His sister misses him a lot, and wants to see him again."

Ru'a looked down. Rani frowned, pursing his lips and turning his head to stare at the far wall.

"Well… I guess you have no choice, then," the little boy said reluctantly.

"You promise you'll be back real soon?" Ru'a asked tearfully. Hafa smiled.

"Yeah. Miss Maha will be with me, so if there's any trouble we can come straight back."

"Pardon me?" The orange cat who had been sitting on the dinner table swishing its tail jumped into the air, morphing into her human guise. Maha put her hands on her hips, a dangerous look in her eye. "Don't just volunteer me for things without asking permission! What if I don't want to go?"

"Weren't you just saying that you wanted something lively to happen?" Reem accused, and Maha flashed the ex-officer a venomous look, waving her hand in a frantically dismissive way.

"I never said anything of the sort!"

"I'm pretty sure you did." Najiya said, a finger on his chin.

Makarim smiled. "I'd feel a lot better if you accompanied him. After all, you saved the _world_ and all of us, right? There's no one better suited to aid Haru in his quest than you."

Maha leveled Makarim a glare. "You're just trying to butter me up."

"It's working, or you wouldn't still be here." Makarim kindly pointed out.

"You'll make sure Haru gets home safe, won't you?" Ru'a asked, her eyes big and wet again.

Maha glanced at Ru'a, and it was obvious immediately that her facade had broken. She crossed her arms and heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, I guess it wouldn't take up _too_ much of my time. And if I don't go and you end up dying or something silly like that, I'll never hear the end of it," she said, her frown dwindling into a coy smile.

.

.

.

The sun had risen by the time Hafa left the city. His camel, never having strayed far from the city walls since their separation days previous, greeted him with a happy nose-push that nearly knocked him off his feet. Makarim laughed, rubbing the camel's nose lovingly.

Hafa loaded the animal, and turned back to view the city. It looked exactly the same as the first time he'd laid eyes on it, the buildings plentiful and packed tightly together, stretching their shadows over the sand. The only variance was the missing palace, and the mysterious throne that stood without a Prince.

Makarim followed Hafa's gaze. "It feels like an eternity ago, doesn't it?" he said, knowing exactly what Hafa was thinking. Hafa didn't respond. It did, but it didn't. Time meant little to him anymore.

"Should we be off?" Maha asked, her human guise fading, replaced with a white camel who Hafa's camel immediately took a liking to.

Najiya, Reem and the twins finally made it to them, Reem holding a basket of food and odds and ends. He handed the basket to Hafa, his expression difficult to read, but he looked conflicted. "Have a safe journey, Haru. I hope you can bring the Prince back safely."

"He's not a Prince anymore," Hafa pointed out. Reem looked down.

"I know." he said with a sad smile. "I still feel a sense of duty toward him, however."

"It looks like you have someone else to feel dutiful toward now." Hafa said, glancing at Najiya, who was speaking avidly with the twins. Reem reddened.

"Y-yes. I suppose so."

Hafa tied the basket to his camel, and when he turned around he was being one-arm attacked by Najiya, who slung his arm around Hafa's neck and hugged him fiercely. "Haruuuuu! Come back real soon, okay? We're all gonna miss you like crazy while you're gone!"

Hafa smiled and ruffled Najiya's blonde mess of hair. "I'll try not to be gone long."

Najiya pulled away, wiping at his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a smile. "I'm holding you to that!" he chimed.

" _Wait_!"

An urgent cry coming from the direction of the south wall gained everyone's attention. Ghazi could be seen running toward them waving her arms over her head, Aini following close behind, still dressed in the familiar black and grey uniform of the Holy Guard. Ghazi appeared to have discarded her royal attire, dressed in modest clothes more suited for traveling.

Ghazi stopped just short of the surprised company, head bowed, gasping for air. Aini placed a soothing hand on her back, smiling at everyone. "I'm glad we caught you!" he said, his breath also short, but not nearly as winded as Ghazi.

"Princess Ghazi!" Reem exclaimed in relief, but quickly received a piercing, breathless glare from the red-haired girl that stirred a sort of melancholy nostalgia in him. "Ghaz _wa_ ," he amended quickly, allowing her to lower her head again, hands braced on her knees, "Where have you _been_? We were worried!"

"We searched the whole city for you guys! Were you hiding out somewhere?" Najiya asked curiously.

"Where is Siraj al Din?" Makarim added, looking around as if expecting to see the man hurry up from behind them.

As her breathing calmed, Ghazi's gaze drew downward, her hands balled tightly in the fabric of her pants.

"He wouldn't tell us," she answered morosely. "He had to go somewhere very suddenly."

Frowning, Reem crossed his arms. "Where could he have needed to go so urgently that it couldn't wait, at a time like this?" he asked crossly. Ghazi sighed, flipping some stray hair from her ponytail behind her.

"I trust he knows what he's doing." She turned her gaze onto Hafa, who was watching the exchange with a calm expression. "Hafa," she said to him earnestly, "you're leaving to find my brother, aren't you?"

Hafa didn't see much need to answer, he thought it was obvious enough. "Yes."

"Take us with you!" Aini exclaimed. "We want to be of help! We weren't able to do anything for him before, but if we can be useful in any way, we want to try."

Ghazi nodded. " _Please_ let us come with you, Hafa," she said, hands clasped together. "I believe you're the one that can find my brother, but I want to be there when you do."

There was not a single reason Hafa could think up that would justify denying them their desire to help him. These two had far more reason than he to be worried, and deserved to be reunited with Rim more than anyone. Hafa was fairly sure that the two of them could have simply accompanied him without asking permission and he wouldn't have thought to hold it against them.

"I won't stop you," Hafa said coolly, grabbing his camel's head harness. "You just have to make sure to keep up."

Ghazi's face lit up so beautifully that Hafa almost felt like he could remember the days when she had always looked like that, smiling brightly enough to chase away Rim's darkest dreams. It made him happy, deep down.

"Of course!" Ghazi cried happily.

Aini exhaled a breath. "Thank you," he said.

As everyone said their goodbyes, Makarim pulled Hafa in for a hug. Hafa did nothing to resist, even in front of the others; he let his eyes fall closed and tried to savor the feeling of Makarim's strong arms holding him close, chest rising and falling with slightly quaking breaths.

"Come back to me. Please." Makarim breathed in his ear. Hafa merely nodded. He intended to. He had no idea where he belonged in this world, but he knew that if he could make a place beside Makarim, if only for a little while, he would be content.

.

.

.

The desert sun had begun to bear down on them with vigor, but Hafa hardly noticed. Shimmering like a silver line on the horizon was a giant body of water, stretching out across the sand as far as one could see. The familiar sight of an unbelievably snow-white camel marked their next destination several yards away, vanishing periodically with the rolling wisps of sand caught in the breeze. Makarim's ring shone on Hafa's finger, warm against his skin.

He turned back to see the city from afar. He looked back only that once, and then they pressed on.

They had a long way to go still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be honest, I actually cried a little while writing this chapter. ;~;
> 
> I’ve been writing this since October of last year. That’s the longest I’ve ever worked on anything consecutively in my life. This is also the longest thing I’ve ever written. It’s been a big part of my life for so many months, in so many ways. I know it’s technically just a fanfic but the plot took up so much of my time to think about and brainstorm, and the characters mean so much to me. (Just as much as their Free! alter-egos, naturally uwu) It’s just hard to believe that I’m done, it’s over! I’m happy, but it’s emotional! 
> 
> This story took so many twists and turns that I never counted on. I started out with a pretty simple idea: Rim is possessed by a dark djinn, and Hafa is a cursed djinn wandering the desert for water. I’m not sure what happened along the way but it just sort of spiraled from there. I incorporated themes from the show that I thought were important (sorry if some of that came off as really lame??) and tried to weave that stuff into the story in a way that would work. I tried to stay as true to the little details and clues that KyoAni had put into their little Arabian universe, and drew a _lot_ from actual Arabic lore and history.
> 
> I actually do really want to write a sequel. I left it wide open for one because I already have ideas for a plot. I want to include a lot of new characters, Sousuke chiefly, but also some characters (old and new) from the High Speed! novels. I had an idea several months ago to include Zaki-chan in this story, but there ended up being no room for her. (Actually, that happened with a lot of scenes/ideas.) In the sequel there are lots of things I want to focus on - tons more Reigisa and Rintori, for one - but I definitely want to wait until season 2 is either completely aired or mostly aired before I begin. 
> 
> The chances of me continuing this story are good, but it really mostly comes down to the readers. If you all want to hear more of this story, that will be good enough for me. You guys have been integral to my inspiration. 
> 
> I’ve prattled on long enough! Keep an eye out for the sequel, (my tumblr is ostrich-chan-san.tumblr.com, when the time comes I’ll be posting updates on my progress there. Also, just feel free to stop by and say hey or cry about Eternal Summer with me) and I hope you enjoyed my story!


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